


Sherlock and the Christmas Trickster

by Radar_Girl



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Sherlock (TV), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Advent Calendar, Advent Calendar Drabble, Advent Challenge 2018, Adventure & Romance, Awesome Molly Hooper, Christmas, Christmas Drabbles, Christmas Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Engagement, Established Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, F/M, Fantasy, Father Christmas - Freeform, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Loki delivering presents, Married Couple, Married Life, Married Loki/Sigyn, Multi, One Shot Collection, Romance, Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper Fluff, Sherlock is a Good Boyfriend, Weddings, santa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-08-26 12:05:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 20,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16681318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Radar_Girl/pseuds/Radar_Girl
Summary: Christmas themed one-shots for Sherlock/Molly and Loki/Sigyn.We all know that Loki is a Trickster and Sherlock a Detective.....And they've had so many, many stories have been written about them....they've had so many different faces....so many different adventures....A few more stories couldn't hurt.What would happen if Loki was the son-in-law of Father Christmas? And what would happen if he was friends with the one and only Consulting Detective? Let's find out.





	1. The Exchange

 

**One**

 

In the land of fandom, where shipping is favourable and moderators guard against the midnight trolls, the Millennial women and men gather around the internet and they read a tale. They read of Jolnir, King of Gifts, and how he rides a sleigh pulled by reindeer and delivers presents to all the children of the Nine Realms. And they read of his daughter, Sigyn, and of how she travelled to Asgard in order to marry Loki, Prince of the Aesir, and brought him home to Alfheim to live in their castle there. And now in this season of bright flashing lights and fake Christmas trees they read of how Loki delivered a present to Sherlock Holmes, who would one day become the world's only Consulting Detective, but who at the time was only four years old....

 

As young as he was, Sherlock Holmes was already sceptical about the existence of Father Christmas. It just wasn't possible, was it, to be able to deliver all those toys in just one night? And yet he believed just enough not to call out when the slim, dark haired man suddenly appeared in his room with a bulging sack slung across his back.

 

He watched with interest as the man placed a brightly wrapped present at the foot of his bed and placed something smaller inside the stripy sock hanging off the bed post.

 

Sherlock was burning with curiosity. The man was definitely not Father Christmas. Or at least he didn't match any of the pictures Sherlock had ever seen, or any of the depictions in the endless number of Christmas films his parents made him watch. This man was far too thin and tall, with sharp features and long, dark hair slicked back to be Jolly St Nick. But, if he wasn't Father Christmas then why was he doing the job of Father Christmas?

 

“You don't need to pretend to be asleep, child. I'm not going to hurt you. I only came to deliver your present.” The man spoke in a soft, clipped tone, but his words only served to spook the boy.

 

Sherlock yanked his duvet tightly over his head, heart pounding.

 

“Very well. I'm going. Merry Christmas.”

 

Something about the weariness in his voice convinced Sherlock that he was not frightening as he looked. Sherlock flicked his duvet back, and crawled to the end of his bed. The man watched him with a slightly bemused look.

 

“You're not Father Christmas,” said Sherlock.

 

“No. Who do you think I am?”

 

Sherlock thought for a moment. He looked at the man's sharp dark hair, pale skin, and the uncomfortable looking black and green outfit he wore; then he made a deduction. “King of the goblins.”

 

“King of the - I look nothing like Dave!”

 

Sherlock shuffled aside as the man plonked himself down heavily on the bed, looking around the room disdainfully as he did so.

 

“I'm Loki,”the man said eventually.

 

“The Trickster,” Sherlock added. “I've read about you in the book. You were naughty.”

 

“I'm always naughty. It's part of my charm.”

 

“I'm Sherlock Holmes.”

 

“I know. The boy who wants a dog, more friends, and a real working pirate canon for Christmas. Just so you don't get your hopes up, you haven't got any of those things.” Loki lent back to look at Sherlock more carefully. “You're not screaming the house down. Why not? You've just woken to find a stranger in your room, you should be terrified.”

 

Sherlock shrugged. “You're too noisy to be a burglar. Or a kidnapper. And you're wearing a Christmas Wreath around your neck. And you have a sack of toys -”

 

“Shhh!” Loki hushed, pressing a finger to Sherlock's mouth. “You're speaking too loudly. I don't want you to wake Mycroft! I spoke to him last year and really don't want to repeat the experience. The thing is I'm not supposed to be seen. And you shouldn't be talking to me at all! Did no one teach you about Stranger Danger?”

 

“You started the conversation,” said Sherlock, playing with his toes. “Do you work for Father Christmas?”

 

Loki looked appalled.

 

“No! I _help_ Father Christmas. I work _alongside_ Father Christmas. He is not my employer. No, he's my father-in-law. We've fallen a little bit behind this year, so I'm here I am, delivering presents. That okay with you?”

 

“No.”

 

“Well, tough. I don't like it much either.” Loki ran his hands through his hair, ruffling it up. “I've been doing this for three weeks straight now and I'm only half done. Well, three weeks for me, but for you mortals it's only one night. You've no idea how hard I've been working and all I get is comments like: _Achtung! Es ist der Krampus!_ I'm doing my best, but clearly that's not good enough.”

 

He completely failed to conceal his surprise when Sherlock fell against him, wrapping his thin arms as far as they would go around him.

 

“You are good enough! You care enough to do your best,” Sherlock said, full of the all the optimism and compassion typical of a four year old, but with the wisdom to express it in a way that showed him to possess a maturity and intelligence beyond his years.

 

For a moment Loki was too frozen in shock to do anything other than sit still. Then he wordlessly pried Sherlock's arms away and reached inside his coat pocket for something. “Have a chocolate.”

 

“I'm not supposed to eat after bed time. Especially chocolate.”

 

“Child, it's Christmas. From Christmas Eve till Boxing Day you're supposed to feast on chocolate to the point of throwing up over the turkey. If you don't then you're not celebrating it properly.”

 

Sherlock un-twisted the brightly coloured wrapper and placed the chocolate inside his mouth. It was good.

 

“I suppose I should ask if you've been a good boy this year, not that it makes any difference.”

 

“Yes,” Sherlock said, immediately. He knew what was expected of him.

 

“Really? That's no fun. Sounds dull.”

 

“Eurus has been naughty.”

 

Loki's face softened slightly. “I know all about Eurus. I'm going to deliver her present next. Really hope she doesn't wake up.”

 

“But she's been naughty.”

 

“So? Like I said, it doesn't really matter how you have behaved, we still give presents to every child without exception.” He lent forward to rest his chin on his fist and blew out his cheeks. Then he looked about the room warily as though making sure no one else was about.

 

“Tell you what, Sherlock, I'm not supposed to give extra gifts, but for you I will make an exception if – and only if – you agree to owe me a favour.”

 

“What favour?”

 

“I don't know yet. But, when I need you I will come for you.”

 

“Will it be dangerous?”

 

“Never waste time being afraid of danger, Sherlock. It's around us all the time, like dust in the air. So, do we have a deal?”

 

Sherlock frowned. “It's not a gift if I owe you something. It's an exchange.”

 

“If you like,” Loki said, with a smile. “And if you chose to owe me a favour I will give you this.”

 

He shook out his hands and in them appeared the most amazing looking coat Sherlock had ever seen. Dark, woollen, with a large collar, and a red button hole for tiny splash of colour. Sherlock straight away knew that it was _his_ coat. He had always envisioned his adult self in traditional and stereotypical pirate garb, but this was a different kind of pirate coat – modern and sharp and smelling of adventure.

 

He reached out to touch the sleeve; there was magic in the very seams, he could feel it.

 

“Deal,” he breathed.

 

“You'll have to wait until you've grown,” Loki told him. “But, it's a very good coat. It will protect you from the sharks.”

 

He laid it across his lap and folded it over and over again until it was no bigger than Sherlock's sock and then he threw it carelessly into the toy chest.

 

“Time to for you to go to sleep,” he announced.

 

“No.” Sherlock folded his arms across his chest, far too excited to want to sleep.

 

Loki raised an eyebrow. “Oh, well, perhaps you also don't want your present after all.”

 

“I do!”

 

“Then you know what you have to do.”

 

Looking his most petulant Sherlock lay down, but with his arms still tightly folded.

 

Loki smirked as he tucked the duvet around him. Sherlock was about to ask him a question when Loki tapped him on the forehead. He was out like a light.

 

For a year Sherlock waited up every night (apart from Christmas Eve when he inexplicably fell asleep early and stayed asleep) for Loki to return. He told Victor all about him, draw pictures and wrote stories about the adventures they should have been having, but the Trickster never came back to claim the favour that was owed to him. After that he soon faded from Sherlock's memory along with so many other things.

 

At least not until 24 years later...

 

 

* * *

 

AN: Thanks for reading.

I'm worried that some people may be confused about the premise of this fic, so here's a little background:

Jolnir is a Marvel character who appears in an Avengers animated film called Frost Fight. He is Father Christmas, but instead of only giving presents to humans, he gives presents to every child in the Nine Realms, using his unique Space-Time magic to travel from realm to realm quickly. According to Jolnir's page on Marvel Wiki he is half Frost Giant and half Ice Elf.

In Frost Fight Loki tries to steal his powers, but of course is stopped by the Avengers. I haven't seen it but I really want to.

 

In this fic and in the crossover fic I started, Loki is married to Sigyn, who is Jolnir's daughter. She is being trained to take over from Jolnir when he retires. They make friends with Sherlock and Molly, and have lots of adventures and fun together.

 

Thanks again.....Any thoughts on a title?

 


	2. Calling In A Favour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki is owed a favour by Sherlock.

 

**Calling in a favour**

 

Sherlock Holmes was experiencing a day that was somehow both bizarre and commonplace by turns; exciting in some moments and downright dull in others.

 

It turned out that he hadn't dreamt up Loki all those years ago. The Trickster was indeed married to the daughter of Father Christmas. And now that very morning he had gambolled out of Sherlock's fireplace, demanding that Sherlock Holmes come with him to repay the favour that he had been promised all those years ago.

 

First he sat in Molly's comfy armchair, drank some tea and ate some biscuits and then he explained why he had come. He explained that he wanted to claim back the favour that he had been promised all those years ago and that Sherlock should come with him immediately and that they had already wasted enough time by drinking tea and eating biscuits.

 

Sherlock, of course, went willingly with Loki. And Molly went willingly with him. Loki hauled them onto the roof of 221B where a bright red sleigh with two reindeer were waiting and off they went.

 

They were taken straight to Alfheim, the realm of the elves, and where Jolnir (Father Christmas to me and you) and his family lived in a crumbling castle on a cliff overlooking a sea. It was surrounded by fields where the reindeer lived, blanketed by snow, and beyond that there were forests and mountains in one direction, and villages in another.

 

Loki showed them into the castle, which was very grand and stuffed full of clutter and odds and ends and bits and bobs; because when you live for so very long and have thousands of birthdays it is hard to know what to do with all the unwanted gifts sent to you by grannies, and aunts and uncles, and cousins who you didn't know you had.

 

Loki led them up staircases and down corridors and crawled through trapdoors until they came to a great library filled floor to ceiling with books. And what a sorry mess it was. Without rhyme or reason the books were shoved together on shelves or in piles, covered in dust, and with no order to them at all. Some books had even been left open and page down on the cold, hard floor.

 

“Tidy this room up and organise all the books and then we will be even,” Loki told Sherlock.

 

Sherlock around the vast library where not a single paperback was in its proper place and he felt quite daunted.

 

“But it'll take me weeks!” he protested.

 

“I gave you your coat, did I not?”

 

“Yes, but -”

 

“And it is a good coat that has kept you cool in summer and warm in winter, whose pockets never fill, and whose material never tears.”

 

“Yes, but -”

 

“I suggest that you just get on with it.”

 

Molly squeezed Sherlock's hand. “I'll help,” she assured him. “We'll do it together.”

 

They worked as quickly as they could but their task was made all the harder by being unable to read some of the titles and so they had to ask Loki to translate for them. The Trickster was quite happy to sit on stack of encyclopedias and criticize from afar.

 

After an hour and a half, all were bored stiff.

 

“This place is amazing, Loki,” Molly said, at her most gushing. She suspected that the Trickster was susceptible to a little flattery, just as much as Sherlock was.

 

“It is,” he said, sound suspicious.

 

“Too bad we're the only ones here,” Molly went on. “I wanted to ask Father Christmas so many questions.”

 

Loki snorted. “If you're so very curious you could just ask me. I suppose that you want to know how we do it all and have a tour.”  
  


“Oh, no,no, we need to finish up here. A deal is a deal.”

 

“Yes,” Sherlock agreed. “Although, being such weak mortals this is going to take us a very long time. And these books are so very heavy...”

 

Loki looked more than a little irritated with their chatter.

 

“Fine! We'll take a break,” he said, huffily. “Come on, I'll show you around. But, only very briefly, I'm not a tour guide.”

 

As they left the library neither Sherlock nor Molly noticed the green shimmer as the illusion lifted, wiping away the mess and revealing a perfectly ordered room.

 

And so Loki showed them all over the castle. He showed them the nine halls (one for each of the Nine Realms) where the letters of the children of those realms would arrive containing their requests for presents; and he showed them the little room with the large desk where he would read and sort through all the letters and make a long list of all the toys they would have to make. He showed them the reindeer and the stables, and told them how they trained the reindeer to fly. He showed them the sheds where they kept all the different sleighs, and, lastly, he showed them Jolnir's workshop, where he spent most of his time magicking up toys.

 

The tour lasted much longer than Loki had promised and Sherlock and Molly had kept him busy by asking him endless questions, hoping that he would forget about the library. It seemed to work because when it was finally over he seemed tired of their company and was only too keen to take them back home.

 

They thanked him and promised to return to the library to continue their work if only he came to collect them, but he did not seem interested.

 

That night Sherlock and Molly sat in front of the fire with their mugs of cocoa, very pleased with themselves. Not only had they discovered that Father Christmas was real (although they hadn't met him yet) but they had travelled to a whole new world and tricked a trickster. Not a bad day.

 

As for Loki, he passed the evening reading in his vast library, which was perfectly neat and tidy; not a single book was out of place, and there was not a speck of dust to be seen.

 

After a couple of hours had passed his wife, Sigyn, burst in and flung her blue arms around him.

 

“We're finally back!” she greeted, kissing him hard. “I'm sorry we had to leave you behind.”

 

“It's fine. I kept myself occupied.”

 

“Really? But it's your birthday, didn't you feel lonely?”

 

“Of course not. I never feel lonely.”

 

Sigyn kissed his head. “Liar! But, never mind, wait until you see your present. You're going to hate it!”

 

“Hmm, I can always rely on you to get me exactly what I don't want.”

 

Sigyn lent close to his ear. “Also, I thought we could -” and she whispered something in his ear.

 

Loki blushed. His birthday was just getting better and better.

 

* * *

 

AN: Loki can't admit when he's feeling lonely, which is when he looks for a couple of mortals to impress. Anyone else of the Nine Realms would not be in awe of all the magic because it is commonplace for them, but for humans it is mind blowing. But, maybe, just maybe, Sherlock and Molly will impress him? That would be an interesting experience for him. Then they can become true friends.

Loki and Sigyn have had so many birthdays now that there is nothing left for them to buy one another, except for the things that they hate. It has become a competition to outdo one another. Problem is that they have started doing the same thing for friends and family. Sherlock and Molly can expect some bad gifts to come their way.

Thanks for reading!

 


	3. How Sherlock Met Molly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Sherlock and Molly became a couple

 

**Three: How Sherlock Met Molly**

 

Sherlock Holmes had rules about going outside. They were as follows:

 

Rule number one: only leave the flat to solve cases, perform experiments, or if extreme circumstances demands the evacuation of said flat.

 

Rule number two: I do what I like and it's stupid to create rules only for myself to follow, so disregard Rule Number One.

 

Rule Number Three: Never make up any more rules.

 

Rules or no rules, Sherlock still refused to venture out from his flat unless he had good reason to and this was very important. He wanted to make a friend. Specifically a pathologist friend. Specifically, specifically, the pathologist he had heard rumours about, the one with the slightly weird power.

 

He had only recently moved to London and was trying (without much success) to establish himself as a creditable consulting detective. He had his magnifying glass, website, chemistry set, and the handsome coat he had only been allowed to wear from age eighteen onwards; the coat that no one in the family could remember the origin of, but somehow all knew and accepted that it belonged to Sherlock. But none of those things really mattered until he started getting some decent cases. So far he had been offered nothing more than missing pets and cheating spouses. Hardly the stuff of Agatha Christie.

 

And so he had decided that maybe branching out would be wise. Interesting people were bound to bring in interesting cases. He had already (sort-of) charmed a Detective Inspector, but now he wanted a pathologist.

 

He didn't know what she looked like, but he knew what to look for. Pathologists were not exactly difficult to spot, especially if you were Sherlock Holmes. Especially, especially if you had already blagged your way into the hospital's staff canteen.

 

He found a likely target and followed her into the queue, making a series of deductions as he went.

 

“Pathologist,” he blurted out.

 

Of course the petite woman heard him.

 

“Bullet wound,” she returned, and then clapped a hand to her mouth.

 

“Sorry?”

 

“Sorry!”

 

“What?”

 

“Forget the bullet wound!”

 

“What bullet wound?” Sherlock tried to sound confused, but really he was excited. This had to be her.

 

“Your bullet wound! No, uh, I mean, what bullet wound? Why are you talking to me?”

 

Sherlock smiled. This was her.

 

“You're a pathologist. I want a pathologist for a friend.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I think it would be useful to have a friend who is a pathologist. You never know when you might need one.”

 

“That hasn't really answered my question.”

 

“And you never answered mine about the bullet wound. You have a power, don't you? Don't worry, I think it's impressive.” He held out a hand. “Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective. Pleased to meet you.”

 

After a moment's hesitation the pathologist squeezed his hand.

 

“Molly Hooper. A-and it's not actually impressive....I don't know if it's real or if I'm just a freak....I suppose you want to either test it or exploit it? You're not the first.”

 

The canteen lady decided to butt in this point, having been listening in. “She told me I'm going to die by ice-cream van!”

 

“Oh, Maureen, you know I didn't mean to tell you that! It's just the vibe I get off you...but I'm sure it's not true....”

 

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. This was going well. “The answer is yes to both of your questions. I would like to test your gift. And as a detective it could be more than useful to know how people might die. And, yes, I would exploit our friendship. For access to your lab, cadavers, and expertise.” He smiled winningly at her. “A good detective should only make friends with the best people.”

 

Molly took a step back from him, looking wary.

 

“At least you're honest.”

 

“Well?”

 

“Well, what? No! The answer is no, Sherlock Holmes. Go away.”

 

“What if I brought you dinner first? It could be the beginnings of a beautiful and profitable friendship.”

 

“And how would I profit from this hypothetical friendship?”

 

“Aside from the occasional free meal? The friendship itself. I draw the line at accompanying you on shopping expeditions, but most other activities will be acceptable. Do we have a deal?”

 

Molly ran her ponytail nervously threw her fingers.

 

“I would say yes if I were you,” said the canteen lady.

 

“We have so much in common already!” Sherlock went on. “I was tested by Shield, too! As a child. My parents wouldn't let me go with them.”

 

“Shame.”

 

He held out his hand to her for the second time. “What have you got to lose?”

 

Molly took it, shaking it briefly.

 

“I don't know you,” she said. “So, I could lose everything.”

 

“That's true. I could be a serial killer. Friends should know the best and worst of each other.”

 

He watched as she laced her fingers together and un-laced them again.

 

“I don't want dinner,” she suddenly said.

 

“What do you want?”

 

She chuckled nervously.

 

“Tell me!”

 

“Buy me a decent sized Lego set and I'll tell you almost everything you want to know.”

 

“Why not everything?”

 

Molly smiled at him for the first time.

 

* * *

 

 

Five hours later and Sherlock was mentally kicking himself.

 

Never stay away from the flat longer than you have to, had been one of his personal rules.

 

No shopping expeditions, he had told her.

 

And what had happened? He had waited until Molly's shift had finished and was now out in the dark and the snow, with all the Christmas lights, music, foods, and shoppers all swirling around them, buying Lego for a woman he barely knew.

 

Still though, perhaps it was worth it, he told himself.

 

Molly Hooper was rather fascinating. Every person she came across she had a prediction for their future cause of death: heart failure, cancer, stabbing....and cows....horrible, horrible cows...Sometimes she blurted the prediction out, the words spilling out of her mouth, but other times she was able to suppress it; later whispering the bleak judgement in his ear.

 

And once he had secured the Captain America Vs Red Skull (who knew that they made sets about real people?) she was a little more willing to answer the personal questions he put to her. How old had she been when she first developed her power? What had her parents thought about it? Did it work on the already-dead? Is that why she had become a pathologist? Could she predict when someone might die and not just the cause of their demise?

 

She didn't answer that last one, but instead gave him a sideways look.

 

“Aren't you worried about what I said to you?” she asked.

 

Now it was his turn to be evasive. No one likes to think about their own end, how or why it might come about.

 

He grinned her cheerfully. “It does sound dull, doesn't it?”

 

“Being shot? No, no it doesn't.”

 

“Well, we all have to go sometime, don't we?”

 

“Not by being shot, no. I'd try to avoid it if I were you.”

 

“Is that your professional opinion?”

 

“No. It's just common sense that being shot is a bad thing.”

 

“You're concerned about me. We must be friends.”

 

“No, I'm just a very caring person.” She looked down at the plastic bag containing her new toy. “Well, you did buy me Lego....but then I answered all those questions, so I guess that it was more of an exchange than an act of friendship.”

 

That sounded familiar. And it somehow Sherlock feel sad inside.

 

“But I think we could be friends,” Molly added, quickly. She took a few nervous steps backwards. “Night, Sherlock.”

 

“Goodnight, Molly.”

 

* * *

 

 

He went to visit her at Bart's the very next day wanting her help with a case and she reluctantly assisted him, worried about her own work load. Also, she despised snakes.

 

Impressed by how useful she had been (stimulating his genius as he had put it) he went back to her time after time. Cases featuring gigantic dogs, fake legs, bicycles, and cardboard boxes followed one after the other, a whirlwind of adventure.

 

It didn't seem long before she was coming to him to ask if he had any interesting cases at hand.

 

Soon she was assisting him with almost every case that he took on. The officers at Scotland Yard began to see them as double act, mockingly referring to them as the Dynamic Duo. They didn't care.

 

Not long after that she moved into 221B, with her own comfy armchair by the fire to sit opposite his. Sometimes it was just pleasant to sit in front of the fire, each with their own book, completely comfortable in each other's presence.

 

He knew that he would propose to her sometime soon. He was just waiting for the right moment.

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

AN: Thank you for reading! Because this is a crossover I thought that I could get away with giving Molly a bit of magic.

 


	4. Work Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly is at her work Christmas party. She is joined by Sherlock, Loki and Sigyn.

**Day Four: Work Party**

 

 

Molly was more than a little pleased (ecstatic really) when Sherlock showed up at the party. She was more than a little bemused (but still happy) when Sigyn and Loki followed ten minutes later. They caused a bit of a stir when they rolled out of the grate of the large fireplace, and people were quick to admire their crowns of holly leaves and berries (Sigyn's handiwork again, Molly assumed), but interest soon faded as the music was turned up and people began to dance, drunkenly and enthusiastically.

 

“We're the only ones not dancing,” Sherlock suddenly said, his mouth close to her ear.

 

“We stand out. People will notice.”

 

“Better start dancing then.”

 

At first Molly was too preoccupied with the fear of making a fool of herself to truly relax in Sherlock's arms, but when she looked around at the moves her esteemed colleagues were pulling – lurching, stumbling, vomiting – she realised that worrying was a waste of time. However, now that she thought about it the party was still in its infancy, too early for people to be so drunk and behaving without restraint. And wasn't Sherlock surprisingly relaxed and playful in spite of his consistent grumblings that he hated parties? Wasn't she? She looked up to see that Loki was grinning at her mischievously as he held onto Sigyn in the centre of the floor.

 

“What did you do?” Molly demanded, dragging Sherlock along with her.

 

“T-tipsy smell...spell,” Loki slurred. “Just a bit of fun.”

 

“Awesome! Give me five or give me a kiss!”

 

Loki lent down to kiss her, but overbalanced and fell flat on his face. Sigyn was the first to start laughing.

 

“You made it too strong!” she giggled. “And you can't kiss Molly...not until I hang this up...” She waved her hands and in them appeared a sphere of holly leaves and mistletoe, with a line of bright red apples circling around it's middle, and with a bow hanging off the bottom.

 

“It's a Kissing Bough,” Sigyn explained, proudly. “Who wants to go first?”

 

Sherlock and Molly looked at one another happily.

 

 

* * *

 

AN: A Kissing Bough is a traditional English decoration. As described it is a sphere of foliage – holly, ivy, rosemary, and mistletoe – and adorned and decorated with fruit, ribbons, ornaments and sometimes candles. It was hung over doors or from ceilings, anywhere people were likely to walk past, and if you did walk under it you'd get a free kiss. From this came the tradition of kissing under mistletoe.

Thanks for reading!

 


	5. Jolnir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little intro for Jolnir.

 

**Jolnir**

 

Jolnir was the one of the oldest beings in the Nine Realms, his friend Odin being his only close match in years. Who was younger and who was older neither could remember. Not that it was a competition.

 

Besides, his actual, accurate age in number of years was an unimportant number to Jolnir. All he knew that was that he had kept the gig of delivering presents to every child in the Nine Realms once a year up for a very long time and it was only getting harder with each year that passed by.

 

Maybe it was because the number of children was steadily rising all the time since the day the Yggdrasil had transitioned from immature sproutingling to mighty Tree of Life and had brought the nine worlds into being, allowing them to nestle safely in its branches. Or maybe it was because it was becoming harder to keep permission from the Realm's rulers (Odin still had the final say-so about the Earth) to be allowed to enter the Realms in order to deliver the presents. Or perhaps it was because spies, enemy agents, and greedy thieves were forever after the secrets of the Space-Time magic which made the work possible.

 

Maybe it was because he becoming too old for the job.

 

He had noticed the ache in his bones recently. And his back. And his knees. Just all over his immense body, really. Then there was the growing fatigue; he was unable to concentrate as long as he once been able to and last night he had actually fallen asleep in his armchair. How bothersome!

 

But, no, he couldn't deny it any longer. He knew that the time of retirement was fast approaching. It was time to step up his preparations.

 

Thank goodness for his daughter, Sigyn, who was more than capable of taking the mantle from him. Thank goodness, goodness, that she had a husband who truly loved her. And no one would deny that it wasn't useful that Loki was a master of magic. No, despite other people's doubts, Jolly was sure that the two of them could successfully take over.

 

It did not surprise him when she reacted with a mixture of delight and sadness.

 

“I could never be a match for you, Father,” she said, softly. “And they might be disappointed to have me....You know that people expect, well, you!”

 

He patted her hand. “It's true that you don't look exactly like me. But, what does that matter? We have the same spirit. You care about giving a little happiness to each child and are stubborn enough to do it. Nothing else matters. What do you think, Loki?”

 

Loki's head snapped up. He hadn't anticipated being asked for input to the situation.

 

“Sigyn can't do this on her own. It requires the both of you. So, are you in until the end of the line?”

 

“I am,” he replied, immediately.

 

“Good lad. Now as to titles, Sigyn, perhaps you should be Mother Christmas, hmm?”

 

She glanced at Loki before rubbing her hands together.

 

“You don't like it?”

 

“Makes me sound frumpy,” she admitted. “Like Old Mother Hubbard.”

 

“Then what?”

 

“I don't know....Mrs Christmas? No! That sounds even worse.”

 

Loki coughed. Of course he had the answer. He looked at Jolly with sharp green eyes.

 

“In England you used to be known as Captain Christmas.”

 

“That's too military, surely? We're not soldiers.”

 

But they could see from the sparkle in Sigyn's eyes that she was taken by the idea.

 

“I could be the captain of Christmas!” she breathed, hands clasped together. “Like someone who really, really enjoys Christmas! Which I must do because I will delivering presents to every child in the Nine Realms.”

 

Jolly shook his head, knowing when to admit defeat.

 

There was a still a little way to go though before he would willingly hand over the reigns.

 

 

* * *

 

AN: Yay! It's Day 1 of Advent. Because I'm a Christian it's an important time of waiting, anticipating, and just getting really excited.

Thanks for reading!

PS: It's true that a long, long time ago our Father Christmas was occasionally referred to as Captain Christmas, along with other names such as Old Man Christmas.

 


	6. Sigyn the Artist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigyn is an artist

 

**Sigyn the Artist**

 

As always the day began unbearably dull until the desperate client appeared begging for help. It was the signal that they were about to have an adventure. And the more desperate the client the better....Sadly, this is not one of those occasions, but weren't you intrigued?

 

It was Sherlock who first heard the tell-tale rumble in the chimney breast.

 

“Chimney,” he said, blandly.

 

He and Molly moved swiftly to the sofa just as Loki gambolled onto the carpet looking hot and flustered.

 

“Quickly! Please, I need you both to come with me right now!”

 

“Why? What's wrong?”

 

“It's Sigyn! She's going to do it! She's been talking about it for years, but I think she might actually do it!”

 

“Do what?” Sherlock demanded. “Calm down and tell us.”

 

“The Thames....” Loki said, breathlessly. “We need to hurry before she goes in.”

 

“Do we need to call the police?”

 

“If you like. The more the merrier. Now, come on!”

 

ooo

 

Whatever it was they had been expecting to see, whatever it was they had been imagining, this wasn't it.

 

“Isn't she amazing?” Loki gushed.

 

“Yeah, in way...,” Molly conceded.

 

“She's a lunatic,” said Sherlock (which earned him a glare from Loki). He was filming the event on his phone. He looked about the crowds. “At least everyone is enjoying the spectacle.”

 

“Of course. When was the last time you got to see a woman paddling about the Thames in a giant hallowed-out Christmas Pudding?”

 

 

They continued to watch as rather clumsily Sigyn manoeuvred the oversized pudding in one direction to another. At one moment it rocked violently from side to side but she was just able to regain control of the cakey vessel and continue on with her journey.

 

“Need any help?” Loki shouted at her.

 

She shook her head. “I'm fine....I don't think I should have made the paddle out of a candy-cane...”

 

Molly lent over the railings to yell, “Why are you doing this?”

 

“For art!” came the prompt reply. “And for joy and love! And to promote cake!”

 

Sherlock nudged Loki's arm. “Look at that.”

 

A grin spread across Loki's face before he called out, “Look out, Siggy! Gang of ducks heading to your stern!”

 

“Wha-?” There was no room for Sigyn to turn around in her hole (and she was kneeling down), so she was stuck trying to look over her shoulder, while desperately trying to paddle away. She jabbed an oversized sprig of holly at the offending birds, but it had no effect on them. “Don't eat my boat! I'll sink!”

 

“Leave her alone, you foul fowls!” Loki bellowed.

 

“Flock off!” Sherlock shouted.

 

“Don't leave us, Sigyn!” Molly called. “Waddle we'll do without you?”

 

Sigyn flicked the bird at them.

 

Two minutes later HMS Puddy became completely unseaworthy, breaking apart into large soggy pieces and dumping its captain into the water. The ducks took care of the clean-up operation.

 


	7. Christmas Crackers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock makes some Christmas Crackers for Molly. Loki tries to help.

 

**Christmas Crackers**

 

Sherlock wasn't one for making grand, elaborate declarations of love; or even simple ones, for that matter. But he did love Molly and so every now and then he found himself filled with the desire to do something romantic.

 

It was a delicate operation and required a steady hand to cut into the Christmas Cracker, rummage among its contents, remove the cheesy joke, and replace it with his own message of love, before sealing the tube up again and leaving no trace that it was ever tampered with.

 

He had gotten the idea from a serial killer who had done much the same thing for his targeted victims, except that the messages of love had been threats of violence. Hopefully Molly would not have the same reaction of revolution and fear as Dan the Cracker's victims had.

 

He was just glueing down the bow over the slit he had made when Loki told him, “Careful now.”

 

Sherlock jumped out of his skin, knocking the pot of glue all over the cracker in the process.

 

“You've ruined it!” Sherlock growled. “I'll have to start again now.”

 

Loki held up his hands. “You're going about it all wrong. There's no need to cut into it, just open up one end.”

 

“It doesn't surprise me that you've done this before.”

 

“It's just common sense that you open up one end.”

 

“Why are you here?”

 

“I'm on a tea break. And I think you need help.”

 

He picked up the sticky cracker and tore it open, tipping out its sorry contents: pink paper hat, flimsy plastic comb, and, of course, Sherlock's clumsy declaration of love written on a small slip of paper.

 

“It's not much, is it?” Loki said, tossing the comb aside. And then he spotted the piece of paper. “Oh, but what is this?”

 

“Nothing. Leave it.”

 

Loki cackled loudly as he ran into the living room, Sherlock chasing after him.

 

“Loki, give it back!”

 

Loki leapt onto the sofa and was jumping up and down on the cushions as he read out, “How do I know that Molly Hooper is full of Beryllium, Gold, and Titanium? Observation, because she is Be-Au-Ti-Ful.” Loki stopped bouncing; he looked at Sherlock with a smirk. “Oh, that is lovely, just love – ARGH!”

 

Sherlock had just rugby tackled him around the waist, knocking him over the arm of the sofa and onto the floor.

 

“I mean it!” Loki shouted, as Sherlock scrambled over him to retrieve the slip of paper. “Do you have any more?”

 

“None of your business.”

 

“Oh, go on. That one was really sweet.”

 

“You'll only laugh again.”

 

“Yes, but so will Molly. But not in an unkind way!” he added hastily as he saw Sherlock's face fall. “I laughed because it was surprising in a cute, sentimental way. And Molly will think so too. That's what you want, isn't it? Also, it's chemistry themed. That's a clever personal touch. She'll appreciate that. Shows you've put thought into it.”

 

“Do you really think so?”

 

“I do. Besides, they're going inside Christmas Crackers! They're meant to be corny.”

 

“Oh, very well.”

 

Loki's eyes lit up when he saw Sherlock retrieving more slips of paper from his pocket.

 

Sherlock cleared his throat and read, “Molly, do you have 11 protons? Because you're sodium fine!”

 

He looked for Loki's reaction who waved his hand in a so-so way.

 

“Well, how about: Molly, we're like two atoms sharing a covalent bond. We complete each others valence shell.”

 

“A little laboured, but I know she'll understand.”

 

“Last one: Molly, we have great chemistry together, so let's try some biology.”

 

Just as predicted Loki laughed. Hard. “Yes, put that one in. She'll love that one.”

 

“Maybe for later in the evening.”

 

“Still, though, if you're tying to woo Molly then you could do better than a toy comb and a paper crown.”

 

“It's just what comes in the Crackers. The toys are always cheap. You wouldn't believe how many plastic paper-clips I obtained in my wild youth.”

 

Loki had returned to the kitchen table and was turning a Cracker over in his hands, wearing a thoughtful expression on his face.

 

 

“Now, I know that I can improve -”

 

“No!”

 

“You didn't let me finish.”

 

Sherlock folded his arms. “Thank you for your kind offer of help, Loki, but I'd rather _you_ didn't tamper with them. It wouldn't exactly be romantic for Molly and me to pull the cracker and be blown up, now would it? Yes, it would be hilarious to you, but I'm trying to do something.... _tender_ for Molly, so please, _please_ , as a friend, just let me do this my way. Okay?”

 

Loki nodded. “Understood. I promise not to interfere with _your_ crackers.”

 

“Thank you.” And then Sherlock went over Loki's words more carefully in his mind. “Loki, I also don't -”

 

The Trickster had vanished.

 

Ooo

 

As promised Loki did not interfere in any way with Sherlock's Crackers, but that did not stop him from toiling all night to create his own and making them look exactly like Sherlock's and then leaving them where the couple would find them.

 

In his defence he had only been trying to help Sherlock in his own misguided way. In his mind there was no way Molly would be impressed or romanced by the meagre offerings of the humble mortal Christmas Cracker. Really, Sherlock was only setting himself up for failure. So, once again, it was up him – Loki of Alfheim, god of Helpfulness - to assist the mortals whether they craved assistance or not.

 

It was unfortunate that Loki had overlooked the obvious pattern in his life, just as he always did whenever he tried to put of his plans into action: he was a habitual screw up.

 

At least it would give him something new to discuss with his therapist.

 

 

 

* * *

 

_AN: Next chapter will cover what happened when Molly and Sherlock pulled one of Loki's Crackers._

_Crackers are meant to remind people of the way logs will spark and crack on a fire. They look pretty on the outside._

_The chemistry jokes came off a website._

_Thanks for reading!_

 


	8. Christmas Crackers - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and Molly are teleported to a strange world.

 

**Christmas Crackers – Part 2**

 

 _This is wonderful!_ Sherlock thought, crossly. _It's truly fantastic!_

 

He was not being sarcastic. It really was wonderful and fantastic, but even that was not quite enough to stop him from feeling angry with Loki.

 

The evening had been progressing smoothly. Takeaway, sofa, cuddling, _Miracle on 34_ _th_ _Street._ But, then he had brought out the Christmas Crackers he had prepared, one of which contained the engagement ring. And he had known exactly which one. Of course he did. Except that Molly hadn't picked that one first; no, she had to chose one of the others, didn't she?

 

At first he hadn't minded, thinking that it was better that there was some build up to her finding the ring. And at least she could have a giggle with the joke he had put in.

 

But of course that never happened because it was not one of his Crackers, it was one of Loki's.

 

They had pulled the Cracker, there was a loud crack noise, and when the smoke cleared they found themselves in a dark, dense forest.

 

So, although Sherlock could appreciate the excitement and wonder that came with being teleported to another world, he also wished it hadn't happened on the day he had wanted to propose.

 

He almost fell as a large wave of woodland creatures charged past his ankles, all them carrying their possessions in bags on their backs or shoved into carts and wheelbarrows. He held onto Molly as the animals continued to rush around them.

 

“Run!” cried the little creatures. “And hide before it's too late!”

 

“Why? What are you talking about?” Sherlock demanded.

 

One of the smallest creatures paused long enough to point upwards towards the sky. Sherlock felt Molly grab hold of his hand tightly as together they looked up and saw the angry red meteor hanging low in the air.

 

“Before the star falls on you,” said the smallest creature, and then it jumped down into a hole among the tree roots and was gone.

 

Molly and Sherlock looked at one another in horror.

 

“LOKI!” Sherlock bellowed into the reddish gloom. “GET US OUT! LOKI!”

 

“LOKI!” Molly screamed. “HELP US! SIGYN! JOLNIR! HEIMDALL! ANYONE!”

 

There was no answer, no reply to their frantic pleas, except for -

 

“Quick, this way! Follow me!”

 

A small white, hippo-like creature carrying a monkey in his arms, dashed past them. Really, could things become any stranger?

 

“Quickly!” the hippo-like creature urged. “I know of a cave!”

 

Molly latched onto Sherlock's arm so tightly that he thought that her fingernails might just have drawn blood from under his shirt sleeve.

 

“Sherlock!” she hissed. “It's Moomintroll! This is Moomin Land! I think we're inside a book, but how? Why?”

 

Sherlock dragged her along by the hand.

 

“Never mind that now!” he barked.

 

He had no idea what a Moomin or Moominland was, but at that moment his only concern was keeping up with the Moomintroll as he darted nimbly between the trees until they came to beach. He led them across the sand until they reached the cave he had spoken of.

 

They followed Moomintroll into the cave where his family and friends were waiting anxiously for him. They were made to feel very welcome with Moominmamma offering them woolly gloves and end-of-the-world soup.

 

“So, how does the book end?” Sherlock asked Molly.

 

She bit her lip.

 

“I don't know,” she admitted.

 

“How can you not know? You know all the character's names, so how can you not remember the story?” He was aware that he sounded highly agitated, but they were about to die inside of a strange book world and he had no idea what to do.

 

“Not of all them! It's a popular franchise, so I know of the characters, but not the stories. I know what a Pikachu looks like, but I've no idea what it's meant to be.”

 

“But, they're children's character's, yes? They wouldn't be killed off, would they?”

 

“I think the books are old. They could become quite dark. This might be the final book...”

 

Sherlock looked warily to the other side of the cave where the Moomins and their friends were huddled tightly together. The heat was almost unbearable now and there was a low rumbling sound growing ever more louder.

 

He pressed Molly closer to her body and shouted into her ear.

 

“Molly, I don't know if we will survive this. No, I haven't forgotten your prediction about me, but this is a mad situation and it seems that anything could happen. And when I say that anything could happen -” Sherlock went down on one knee while at the same time drawing the ring box from his pocket. “I mean it. Molly Hooper, will you marry me?”

 

Molly's hands flew to her mouth. “Assuming that we survive, then yes! Oh, yes!”

 

She jumped forward to wrap her arms around his neck, planting a kiss on his lips.

 

When she pulled away Sherlock grinned at her. “Good. Thank you.”

 

And then he hastily stowed the ring box away. Under the dire circumstances, Molly was not disappointed, but she was curious as to why Sherlock would not show her the ring.

 

“The box is empty!” Sherlock said, loudly so that he could be heard. “The ring is back at the flat. Like I said, this evening has not gone to plan.”

 

The cave began to tremble all around them, clouds of dust and chips of rock raining down on them.

 

Molly wrapped her arms around Sherlock's middled and pressed her cheek to his chest. It gave her immense comfort to feel Sherlock's arms holding her tightly and with his head pushing against hers.

 

She turned her head just in time to see Moominpapa give Moominmama one final kiss goodbye, as they clung to the children and their friends; one loving, family group holding onto each till the very end.

 

 _That is marriage,_ Molly thought. _That's love right there._

 

And then she thought of Sherlock and of the all the wonderful times they might have had together. _Still_ might have, if only someone came to rescue them.

 

“I love you!” she yelled above the din.

 

“I love you!” he called back, just as the rumbling heightened to a roar and the trembling turned to shaking so intense that they could no longer stand upright. Darkness swallowed them up.

 

* * *

 

 

They were clinging to one another on the carpet on the floor of 221B. Loki and Sigyn were watching them from the sofa.

 

“How was it?” Loki asked, excitedly. “It was good, wasn't it? Book spells are always tricky, but I've outdone myself this time.”

 

Sherlock climbed wobbly to his feet, face chalk white and hair messed up.

 

“It was awful!” he croaked.

 

“We engaged!” Molly squealed, springing up beside him.

 

“Oh, so you -” Loki began.

 

“Sherlock proposed!” Molly interrupted.

 

“We almost died!”

 

“We're getting married!”

 

Loki frowned at Sherlock. “Died? Don't be silly. Nobody dies in that book. The comet misses the Earth completely. It's a happy ending. That was the point. A happy ending.” And when Sherlock failed to look like anything but death warmed up, “Oh, come on, I put you inside The Moomins – all sweetness and light and beautiful landscapes with just a bit of danger thrown in. I thought that you would enjoy it.”

 

“I enjoyed it!” Molly cried, hugging Loki tightly. “Not only did we not die, but we're engaged! I'm so happy! Thank you so much!” And she kissed his cheek, making his face flush red, something which didn't happen very often.

 

He reached for another Cracker. “Well, if you liked that one...”

 

Sigyn placed an arm across his chest.

 

“I think they've had enough for one night, sweetheart,” she told him. “Congratulations you two,” she added, hugging them both.

 

* * *

 

 

Later that night they cuddling on the sofa when Molly gave Sherlock an unexpected sharp jab between the ribs.

 

“You're not still angry, are you?”

 

She gave him another jab just to make sure that she had his attention.

 

He gently knocked her hand aside, saying, “Loki tricked us into thinking that we were going to die. And then he gets all huffy because we didn't like it. Yes, I'm angry.”

 

Molly's mouth curled up into a smile. “ _You're_ the one who didn't like it! And he didn't exactly trick us. If we had read the book we would have known how the story ended.”

 

“Hmm.”

 

Another jab.

 

“I think you're annoyed that you couldn't figure a way out of the story. But, it was thrilling, wasn't it? And we weren't in any real danger.”

 

Sherlock took her head in hands. “I think you should shut up,” he said, softly. And then he kissed her. “I'm sorry, but I can't find the ring. It was inside one of the Crackers. Another thing Loki has ruined for me. I'll buy another one, I promise.”

 

A strange look crossed Molly's face.

 

“There's something you should know first....hold on...”

 

She wriggled out of Sherlock's embrace and padded across the room to her desk and rummaged around in the drawer. Whatever she took out (although Sherlock could tell what it was) she hid behind her back.

 

She stood in front of Sherlock, hands held behind her.

 

“You found the ring?” Sherlock asked, happily.

 

“No...” Molly whispered sheepishly, her face bright red.

 

“Y-You brought your own ring?” Sherlock couldn't understand it.

 

Molly bowed her head.

 

“In a way.”

 

“In a way?” Sherlock echoed. “Molly, did you really think that I wouldn't – wouldn't....Molly?”

 

Molly had gone down on one knee and was presenting him with an open ring box. One which contained a silver ring definitely too big for Molly, a ring which was far too masculine in design for Molly, so...

 

“I brought my own ring for _you_!” Molly said, eyes shining with tears. “I've had it for weeks, but I was too scared to ask in case you turned me down! Or if you thought me silly. But, after tonight I now know more than ever you're the one I want to be with for the rest of my life. There's no more time for being afraid.”

 

Sherlock stared at her open-mouthed.

 

“I'm sorry for being such a coward. Will you forgive me? Will you marry me, Sherlock Holmes?”

 

Sherlock felt his own eyes filling up with hot tears. He pressed his hand to Molly's cheek.

 

“You know I will,” he croaked. He chuckled through the tears. “Because I asked you first, idiot. And because I love you so much.”

 

They kissed passionately and when they broke away Molly slipped the silver ring onto Sherlock's finger, a perfect fit.

 

“Just so you know,” Sherlock said, huskily. “I draw the line at wearing a wedding dress.”

 

Molly giggled. “Okay. I can accept that.”

 

* * *

 

 

Back home on Alfheim, Loki was not at all surprised to receive a text from Molly informing him that she had finally worked up the guts to propose.

 

Loki rolled his eyes. Finally. It had taken a small shove from him, but finally the shy mortal had done it after weeks of dithering. A fake near-death-experience had been just what she had needed.

 

Seconds later a text arrived from Sherlock angrily demanding the lost ring back.

 

Oops. Now what had happened to it?

 

* * *

 

_AN: Molly and Sherlock were sent to Comet In Moominland, a rather dark story in which a comet almost destroys the Earth, but misses at the last moment._

_Loki made 3 other Crackers. One would have taken them into the Peter Pan book, another into the Little Mermaid story, and the third into the Mary Poppins world._

_Now Sherlock and Molly have a wedding to plan. I wonder if Loki and Sigyn will be invited._

_Thanks for reading!_

 


	9. Sleigh Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blah

 

**Sleigh Ride**

 

They were so busy most of the time that they sometimes found it difficult to create quality moments together. However, “Sleigh Karaoke” was always fun. And because in space no one can hear your Meatloaf records playing, then you can blast it out as loud as your ear drums can take it.

 

“Like a bat out of hell I'll gone, gone, gone!” Sigyn sang at the top of her lungs. Meatloaf would have been proud. “Take it, Loki!”

 

Loki leapt up onto his seat, standing with his hands outstretched.

 

“Then I'm dying at the bottom of the pit in the blazing sun!” he howled. “Torn and twisted at the foot of the burning bike!”

 

“Yes! Best song ever!” Sigyn crowed. “What's next?”

 

“Paradise by the Dashboard Light?”

 

“Go on, then.”

 

Loki dropped back into his seat as he lent forward to skip the record onto it's next track. As he did so his sleeve brushed against the Tesseract, which was nestled in the very centre of the dashboard and casting its electric blue glow over the sleigh and its occupants. No reader needs to possess the Mind Palace of Sherlock Holmes in order to recall that the Tesseract is in actual fact the container for the Space Infinity Stone; nor does the reader need to possess the intelligence of Sherlock Holmes to be able to work out that owning such an item would be a marvellously convenient tool to assist the one who, for example, needs to zip about the Nine Realms on a regular basis, such as the Jolnir family.

 

And how did the Jolnirs come by such a cursed and revered thing? Now that it is a question. The answer probably lies with Odin, as most unanswered questions do. However, a long time ago, way back in 965 AD, Odin the One-Eye, defeated the Frost Giants in an epic battle and took three somethings from Jotunheim as spoils of war. And that's when all the trouble began.

 

Firstly, he wrestled the Casket of Ancient Winters out of Laufey's icy clutches, the source of the Frost Giants power.

 

Secondly, he took their newborn prince as hostage. (The taking of child hostages was a formalised practice back in Odin's heyday). It was a weak looking thing, small and crying feebly, but a prince all the same.

 

Thirdly, and perhaps most importantly, he snatched the Tesseract from them.

 

By taking these three things for himself Odin successfully deprived the Jotuns of power, Royalty, and the ability to travel. He had well and truly squashed the enemy under his boot with no hope of forgiveness or restoration. Jotunheim had been plunged into a literal dark age, one that would last for thousands of years.

 

If Odin had been a little more chatty with his rival and godly neighbour, Zeus, then maybe he might have been reminded of the common truth: children who are deprived of their birthright always grow up with an insatiable hunger to take back what rightfully belongs to them.

 

And that Loki is not always the culprit.

 

However, all of this historical chatter and speculation is pure distraction from the story at hand. It just so happens that Sigyn glanced to her left and spotted something which we mere mortals might consider unusual, but is perfectly ordinary to the Aesir.

 

“Oh, look,” she said. “There's goes Thor in his chariot. Pulled by his two giant goats.”

 

Trust the author: it's a Norse thing. And it's not the strangest image in mythology. Not by a long shot.

 

Loki grinned. “Ah, yes. Toothgrinder and Toothgnasher. Shall we give them a race?”

 

“I think so. Fire up the Tesseract and hold onto your seat. This is going to be fun.”

 

 

 

 

 

_AN: Thanks for reading! I'm not feeling too well and my laptop died last weekend, so I've lost work and not sure I'll catch up easily._

 

**Author Shoutout Time!**

 

MOLLY: Hey, Loki, what's Sigyn reading on her tablet? She's seem enraptured.

 

LOKI: Some fanfic. She's been obsessed with it for days. Unless it's about me then I'm not interested.

 

SIGYN: Hmmm......Ahhh.....Oooo....Oh, my. Oh, my!

 

SHERLOCK: It's probably about me.

 

LOKI: What makes you say that?

 

SHERLOCK: It's usually about me.

 

SIGYN: Sniff, GoodShipSherlollipop's work is so beautiful and romantic. I think I ship the Sherlolly now.

 

LOKI: The what?! Let me see that....what exactly are you reading....

 

SHERLOCK: Told you it was about me.

 

MOLLY: Us.

 

SHERLOCK: Of course.

 

LOKI: Hmm, interesting and unique premise. Not seen a Christian Sherlock before.....some nice theological discussion and romantic build up to a very sweet wedding......then a Honeymoon fic....OH!

 

MOLLY: What????

 

LOKI: Heh, heh. Heh.

 

SHERLOCK: You're giggling and your face is all red. What did you just read?

 

LOKI: Oh, I won't give away spoilers. You'll just have to read it for yourself.

 

 

_AN: Thank you, GoodShip, for all the fun fics, Pms, and reviews for my own fics._

 

 


	10. Busy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Busy, busy

 

 

Their alarm goes off in the early hours; thankfully, it's one of those alarm clocks set inside in an automatic tea maker. They've owned one since the 1960s and with a little magical tinkering from Loki, it has never broken.

 

Sigyn is the first to open her eyes – albeit blearily - but Loki pulls the blankets over his head. Their pet dik-dik leaps from his basket onto their bed, making bleating noises for attention.

 

“It can't be the 20th already!” Sigyn groans, throwing an arm over her eyes. Dik the dik-dik snuggles up to her, licking her cheek with his delicate pink tongue. “We've got a million and one things to do and not enough time to do it.”

 

There were reindeer to attend to, letters to read, lists to check, presents to make, sleighs to varnish...And with Jolnir and Astra away on a space cruise around the galaxy they had no one to help them. It was all a test really, to see how well they would cope on their own and Sigyn was determined not to fail.

 

“We'll just have to use a little time magic to help us along.”

 

Loki moaned from under the pillow. The time spell would speed them up, allowing them to work at impossible speeds, but it burnt up a great deal of energy and often gave him a massive headache.

 

“You ought to know that I'm thinking of divorcing you,” he said, sleepily.

 

“O-o-okay,” she replied around a humongous yawn. “It's not worth it, is it?”

 

“No.”

 

“Working ourselves to death just so that the trillions of children in the Nine Realms can have a little gift once a year? It's pointless.”

 

“Hmmm.”

 

“I mean we could just live for ourselves. Go on long luxury holidays and in-between those spend weekends in spas. We could have massages.” She sounded wistful now.

 

Loki finally emerged from his cocoon to join in with her materalisitc yearnings.

 

“We could,” he agreed. “And we could go to fancy restaurants, and wear nice clothes, and rebuild the castle....”

 

“Yeah, the kids wouldn't miss us.”

 

“Not a bit.”

 

“And I could have more time to paint and sculpt. You could work on your plays. We would have time to be ourselves. Maybe finally have a child of our own.”

 

Loki smiled at her sadly, taking her hand in his and stroking his thumb across her knuckles.

 

They both sank into the same daydream, of a life with no real responsibility or cares. They were shaken awake again by the whistle from their tea-making clock.

 

Sigyn kissed Loki on the lips. “Come on then, sweetheart. Tea first and then to work?”

 

“To work. Roll on the 26th December.”

 

000

 

Two days later....

 

“We should wake them up.”

 

“We can't do that! Look at them, they're exhausted.”

 

“Yes, but they also said that they wanted to come out for drinks with us.”

 

Molly looked again at the couple. It was a little bit funny the way Loki and Sigyn were fast asleep on their sofa, with Sigyn lying on top of her husband; but it still seemed unfair to wake them up so soon.

 

“Are you sure that you want to wake them?” she asked, coyly. “When it could just be you and me.”

 

It didn't take Sherlock long to rethink things. He arrived at his conclusion with smirk.

 

“Okay, then. But only for an hour. We can't leave them there all night. They have things to do.”

 

Molly smiled happily, taking hold of Sherlock's arm.

 

“Good,” she said, “Because we've been so busy lately we've hardly had any time to ourselves!”

 

* * *

 

 

AN: Thanks for reading!

 


	11. Snow Dance

 

**Dancing Snow**

 

They were zipping around high up in the sky over Alfheim, dashing this way and that through the thick snow clouds.

 

In the back of the sleigh, Molly held onto Sherlock for warmth as well as comfort. The sun had set a long time ago and the sky was black. All around them the icy wind blew, pulling at their clothes and throwing snow flakes into their faces.

 

“What are we looking for?” Sherlock shouted above the wind.

 

“Something special,” Sigyn replied. “Hopefully we'll find it!”

 

Beside her Loki was holding tightly onto the reins, whistling to direct the two struggling reindeer.

 

Finally, Sigyn pointing upwards.

 

“There! Just up there!”

 

Loki pulled back sharply on the reins and the reindeer bolted forwards, pulling the sleigh up and up until they came above the snow storm. Up there all was icy calmness, the clouds looking so much like snow and with the stars shining brightly above them. Molly smiled at Sherlock and snuggled closer to his body.

 

“Look this way, you two,” Sigyn instructed.

 

They looked to where she was pointing and was amazed to see a cloud of snow flakes swirling around like a shoal of fish, flowing in every direction but downwards. It sparkled wonderfully in the light of the moon.

 

“It is alive,” Loki confirmed, knowing their thoughts. “We call them Snow Fairies, although they're nothing like the fairies you know. Just watch.”

 

The snow cloud shifted and churned before turning into the shape of a proud reindeer, prancing and leaping about the sleigh. The real reindeer bucked their heads haughtily and pawed at the cloud, offended by the presence of the “imposter”.

 

Molly reached out a hand to touch it's head, but then hesitated.

 

“Don't worry,” Sigyn assured her. “They want to communicate with us.”

 

This time Molly touched the reindeer's head, enjoying the feeling of icy pinpricks beneath her fingertips as the Snow Fairies shifted happily.

 

The snow reindeer suddenly burst apart, turning back into a flurry of snowflakes gently falling downwards. But then they came back together in the form of two hares, tumbling and rolling about their heads. After that it became a ballerina, turning furiously in a long chain of pirouettes and dancing about on tiptoes. Then it was a dolphin, and then a ship.

 

The two couples sat holding onto one another and enjoying the show.

 


	12. Pantomime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They go to the pantomime

 

**Pantomime**

 

“He's behind you!” the audience shouted.

 

Captain Hook made a big show of turning around with a flourish and a wave of his plastic hook, just as the crocodile shuffled behind him to the other side of the stage.

 

Hook turned back to the audience, wearing the most over the top expression of annoyance on his make-up plastered face. He shook his hook at the children in the front rows with a sneer.

 

“Oh, no he isn't!” he screeched.

 

“Oh, yes he is!”

 

“Oh, no he isn't!” Hook screeched louder. He knew how to work his audience.

 

His absolute refusal to believe the audience and his complete failure to see the giant foam crocodile was enough to send the children into a frenzy. As well as Loki and Sigyn.

 

“Oh, come on, he's right there!” Loki shouted.

 

“How can you not see him?” Sigyn yelled. “He's going to eat more than just your hand if you don't watch out!”

 

Their voices rose above the whines of the children. The boy in front of them turned around to admonish them, holding his hands over his ears.

 

“You're making my ears hurt,” he complained.

 

“Shh, Alfred!” Loki told him. “Otherwise you won't get that train set you asked for.”

 

Alfred's eyes widened.

 

Molly and Sherlock sank low into their seats, hands held over their eyes.

 

“This is so embarrassing,” Molly hissed.

 

“Oh, is it? I hadn't noticed.”

 

“Are they doing it to tease us? Or are they just really into it?”

 

Sherlock shook his head. “Too bad I'm going to have to stop their fun when I accuse the crocodile of plotting to murder Hook.”

 

“Ah, so that's why we came? I was hoping for a fun night out.”

 

“BOOO!” went Loki and Sigyn as Hook took a swipe at Peter Pan. They were actually standing up now. The only ones.

 

“Having fun yet?” Sherlock asked Molly.

 

Molly groaned.

 

“Best wait for the interval,” she told him with a sigh. “We don't want to spoil the magic too soon, do we?”

 

“BOOO! HISSS!”

 

 

_AN: Pantomimes can be fun, but corny and embarrassing. Loki and Sigyn don't know where to draw the line when it comes to audience participation. In the UK Pantomimes are a staple of Christmas, and are often based on fairytales or Peter Pan. Thanks for reading._

 


	13. Trees and Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly decorates their tree.

 

 

Molly was immersed in the task of decorating the Christmas tree at Baker Street. She was stood on a chair, giving Sherlock a pleasant view of her shapely legs. Even when clad in thick tights and woollen socks they look tremendously sexy to Sherlock, or perhaps it was _because_ of them and the thought of slowly slipping them off....or tearing them off....that made them so appealing. He settled for giving her a quick pat on the bum as he passed by.

 

She turned her head, biting her lip carefully, knowing that he would notice the subtle gesture. Then her mind turned to more serious matters.

 

“What should we get Loki and Sigyn for Christmas?”

 

“Tin of shortbread?”

 

“Don't be so boring.”

 

“Well? What do you think?”

 

“I think they're both over a thousand years old and have everything they want.”

 

“So why do you want to get them presents?”

 

“Because they're our friends. And they've given us magical Christmas Crackers and sleigh rides. It would be nice to get them something special in return. So, come on, genius, use that big brain of yours. Think of it as a case to be solved.”

 

So, Sherlock sat in his armchair and had a think. And then another think. He knew that Sigyn wanted a child and Loki craved peace of mind, neither of which he could provide. They needed a holiday, that might be easier to obtain if he was clever about it. Which he always was.

 

He looked back to where Molly was still standing on the chair, still working on the tree, and still showing off her legs.

 

He walked quietly over to her and coughed.

 

She finished hanging a bauble and looked down.

 

Sherlock held up his hand to show off the silver engagement ring.

 

“Excuse me, but this is more than just a piece of jewellery. It's a symbol of your affection and a promise of your undying fidelity. To me.”

 

She smiled. “And?”

 

“I've been feeling a little insecure lately.”

 

“Oh, dear!”

 

“And I suppose that I would benefit from a little reassurance of your love for me.”

 

“I love you. Better?”

 

“Not really.”

 

Molly placed her hands on his shoulders, slowly moving them up and down. “Well, if words are not enough then maybe I need to provide a small practical demonstration.”

 

“That might work, yes.”

 

He moved closer to wrap his arms around her waist. She bent down to kiss him.

 

The upshot was that things became a little heated and Molly fell off the chair, knocking the Christmas tree over as she went. She wasn't hurt, but she was annoyed at the amount of pine needles she found in her clothes.

 

 


	14. Cocoa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki is worried

 

 

Sherlock placed the mug of hot cocoa down on the desk.

 

“Loki... _Loki_!”

 

The sharpness in Sherlock's voice brought the Trickster to a sudden halt in the middle of his fiftieth journey from the coffee table to the fireplace and then back again. He would have continued if Sherlock hadn't quickly said, “I've made you a drink. Come and sit down.”

 

Loki looked derisively at the striped mug and sniffed the air, smelling the sweetened drink.

 

“Children's beverage,” he muttered, picking at the skin on the palm of his hand. “I need a real drink.” He glanced at the whisky decanter.

 

“I'm not giving you alcohol,” Sherlock replied, stubbornly. “You've already had enough fun for one night. And wearing a groove into my floorboards isn't going to do you any good either.”

 

Looking most put upon, Loki plonked himself down onto the desk chair, leg bouncing.

 

“Why cocoa?”

 

“I'm glad you asked. Cocoa has always been used as a medicinal drink, but now it seems that it's high levels of polyphenols are good for reducing anxiety and depression in those who suffer from them. It might help.”

 

Loki sighed sadly, but took a sip.

 

“Sigyn will be safe, you know,” Sherlock told him. “She's more than capable of taking care of herself and she's taken Thor with her.”

 

“She's gone to Muspelheim, you fool!” Loki said, waspishly. “The Fire Realm, the Kingdom of Surtur! There is nothing safe about tonight!”

 

He buried his head in his hands, breathing deeply.

 

“You're the one who told me not to be afraid of danger,” said Sherlock, softly. “That it's always around us and in the air we breathe. And you're right. Life is dangerous. Always dangerous.”

 

He paused to consider if it would be both helpful and right – or one or the other - to inform Loki of Molly's power, that she had predicted that he would die of a bullet wound* and that Loki was destined to be dispatched to the afterlife after suffering a broken neck. He quickly dismissed the notion; Loki would only relentlessly pester Molly for further information she did not possess. And, besides, how would he interpret the vague (vague by Molly's usual very specific standards) that Sigyn would die of Death?** Not well, Sherlock guessed.

 

Sherlock pushed the thought into the furtherest corner of his Mind Palace. Such knowledge would only double Loki's anguish. To disclose what he knew would be an unkindness, not that Loki would see it that way if he ever found out. He would surely view the lie by omission as a terrible betrayal of their trust of one another. So, he must never find out, Sherlock decided.

 

Instead, he said, “Molly could be knocked down by a bus. Or she could have an undiagnosed brain tumour. And the statistics say that two women are murdered every week by a current or former partner, so really she's taking a risk just by being engaged to me...” He'd meant it as a joke, but Loki was looking horrified. He cleared his throat and went on, “My point is that logically you know Sigyn is both sensible and capable of keeping herself safe. That alone reduces any risk. She's also taken the precaution of having Thor accompany her. The risk is again lowered. Perhaps the danger is not as great as you believe?”

 

Loki said nothing, but looked away miserably.

 

“Dragons and fire monsters aside,” Sherlock went on, “I suppose that there is nothing quite as terrifying as the danger which exists up here,” he tapped Loki's forehead.

 

“I just wanted to keep her safe,” Loki said, quietly.

 

“I know. Which is why you stole and crashed the sleigh and tried to hide the Tesseract from her. Which is why they dragged you here and why we're spending the evening together.”

 

“Because she hates me now.”

 

“No,” Sherlock said, patiently. “It's because Sigyn loves you just as much as you love her. Because neither she nor your brother wanted you to be left alone while so distressed. Yes, they're angry with you – quite rightly – but no great damage was done. Your plan mostly failed. You held up her from making her deliveries, that's all, but you didn't stop her completely. She will forgive you, probably has forgiven you. And as for you,” he checked his watch, “your fifteen minutes are up.”

 

“What fifteen minutes?”

 

“The fifteen minutes your therapist has allotted you each day for worrying. Time to move onto more interesting challenges.”

 

“How did you know -”

 

“Because it's what most therapist recommend for anxious patients. A short amount of time to worry and fret and after that to try distraction and other techniques. So, we've had our chat, now it's time to play. Take a look at this old, battered hat Inspector Lestrade obtained during a slight misadventure at the supermarket and tell me what you can deduce from it? Our challenge for tonight is to track down it's owner.”

 

“What on earth for?”

 

“We're both waiting for our sweethearts to come home from work. We could sit around and watch telly, or we would treat this as an intellectual exercise and as a game. Now then, my friend, tell me what you see.”

 

* * *

 

AN: Thank you for reading! I wanted to work on their friendship a little. I hope it wasn't too angsty.

* If anyone is worried about Sherlock then please remember that when he was shot by Mary he did indeed die on the surgeon's table, but then came back.

** In Greek mythology the personification of death is a being called Thanatos, which sounds a lot like Thanos, yes? Poor Molly is starting to worry about how often the name pops into her head.

 


	15. Christmas Eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Christmas Eve

 

 

Molly was busy in the kitchen adding the finishing touches to the Chocolate Yule Log she had made. The radio was on and she was humming happily along to In The Bleak Midwinter when she heard a tapping coming from the kitchen window.

 

Obviously, this is not the usual place for a tapping sound to come from and she was mortified to see her fiancé hanging off the drain pipe, the wind blowing his scarf into his face.

 

She ran to the window to open it and hurriedly moved the plates and washing-up liquid bottle off the draining board, so that Sherlock could swing himself inside. And then she began to berate him.

 

“What the bloody hell do you think you're playing at?” she snapped.

 

Sherlock grinned at her as he stuffed several squares of chocolate into his face.

 

“You asked me to put Loki's and Sigyn's presents out for them, somewhere where they could find them.”

 

“I meant under the tree or by the window! I didn't mean for you to scramble onto the roof!”

 

“Best place to put them. And it gave me an opportunity to practise running about on rooftops, as well jumping in through windows. How did I do?”

 

“Terrible.”

 

“Dear, oh, dear. I may have to practise some more.”

 

“Don't you dare!”

 

“What did we get them in the end?”

 

“You mean what did I get them on your behalf? An illustrated copy of the first Harry Potter book for Loki -”

 

“He'll hate it. Also, knew it. I could tell by the smell.”

 

“Don't believe you. He'll still read it though. He reads everything. Last week I caught him studying the back of the toilet cleaner. Wouldn't let me put it away until he had finished. Anyway, for Sigyn I brought her some -”

 

“Paintbrushes and and a set of acrylics paints. Smell again. And shape.”

 

“Bit boring really.”

 

Sherlock wrapped his arms around Molly's waist. “Never mind. I think I may have a special something to supplement them.”

 

“What?”

 

“Have you finished writing up the Blue Carbuncle case yet?”

 

“You're changing the subject.”

 

“It's related, I promise. And I want to know. I've been waiting with baited breath for the next ludicrous adventure of Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson.”

 

“I'm still working on the plot,” Molly sighed. “Be patient. Remember that they didn't have chocolate Santas back then or supermarkets. I might have the jewel turn up in a goose, what do you think?”

 

“Marvellous. But, anyway, the client. The meek and mild tempered Lucy Morcor -”

 

“Terrifying, grumpy old cow, you mean. Did you hear her asking me to wipe my shoes?”

 

“The very same. However, she has one redeeming feature – she is an extremely rich, terrifying, grumpy old cow. One who has shares in – or possibly owns – several luxury spas.”

 

“Ah...”

 

“Ah, is right. So, if I act charming enough -”

 

“And if she happens to be visited by three ghosts tonight.”

 

“Then I may be able to persuade her to give our two overworked friends a free weekend.”

 

Molly turned around in his embrace to face him.

 

“I love that you are willing to suck up to that old dragon for the sake of our friends.”

 

“What can I say? I'm a giver.”

 

They kissed as Ding Dong Merrily On High belted out on the radio.

 

“Oh, no I forgot!” Molly suddenly cried.

 

“What?”

 

“I was going to leave some biscuits, carrots and a thermos flask out for them.”

 

“It's still early, so you've got of plenty of time to -”

 

“I know, but...unless they're with the presents they won't see them, so....” She took great pains to flutter her eyelashes at him.

 

Sherlock tilted his head to one side. “You told me not to go on the roof.”

 

“Yes, and now I'm telling you to go back on the roof. Off you pop.”

 

Sherlock kissed her again. “I'd be lost without you to boss me around. It'll be an honour to fall and break my legs for you.”

 

“Hmm. I do love you.”

 

“Love you, too.”

 

They kissed again, the session ending – because they hadn't really learnt their lesson with Christmas tree – with Sherlock getting melted chocolate smeared across his clothes as Molly pushed him back against the counter.

 

He got his revenge by flicking a chocolaty spoon at her face. After that things became really messy.

 

Kissing – it's a dangerous and sticky business, but jolly good fun if you're lucky enough to have those kind of kisses.

 

 

* * *

 

_AN: Happy Christmas Eve! Do people outside of the UK have Yule Logs?_

 

THOR: There's mistletoe hanging over this fic....I even decorated Mijolnir with tinsel and fairy-lights, but still no one wants to kiss Thor. I haven't shown up in this fic yet.

 


	16. Christmas Day

 

 

On Earth the Christmas Day was almost over for many parts of the world. Presents had been opened, carols sung, and stupid amounts of food and alcohol consumed.

 

For Sigyn and Loki the time was spent slowly and wearily making their way back to Alfheim. The sleigh was pushed back into its shed; the reindeer were rubbed down, fed and watered, and released back into their field; then and only then did the couple collapse into their chairs by the kitchen table.

 

Sigyn lent back in her chair, raising her left leg up high.

 

“I can't get my boots off,” she said in a feeble voice. “Help me out, Ki.”

 

Loki groaned, but stiffly knelt down in front of her, yanking each boot off her swollen feet and tossing them onto the mat by the back door.

 

“So,” said Sigyn, taking Loki's hand. “Our first time delivering to Earth all on our own. How do you think we did?”

 

Loki yawned and propped his head up on his fist.

 

“Could've been worse.” But then his eyes snapped open and he sat up straight, suddenly alert again. “I'm not going back to Paris next year.”

 

Sigyn rolled her eyes. “Oh, sweetheart, let it go! So, one brat was rude to you, but you can't ignore the whole of Paris because of him.”

 

“He called me Professor Snape! I am nothing like him!”

 

Sigyn bit her lip to prevent herself from saying anything, although she and Molly had both privately agreed that if Severus Snape and Lily Potter had had a secret lovechild together then it would have been Loki. The fanfiction pretty much writes itself.

 

“I don't even like the Harry Potter series...”

 

She patted his shoulder. “Let's just take a bath, have something to eat and go to bed,” she suggested. “Oh, and we still have our presents from Molly and Sherlock to open.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Sherlock, are you awake?”

 

“W-what? Yes, of course. How I could sleep when watching....?”

 

“Doctor Who.”

 

“Doctor Who.” Sherlock ruffled up his hair and squinted at the television screen. “Is there a reason for the flying shark?”

 

Molly snuggled up a little closer to him. “I'm not sure,” she admitted. “Maybe. You know how easily sharks and Christmas go together.”

 

“Am I allowed my present yet?”

 

“You've had your present.”

 

“No, I mean my extra, special present. The one we want to share.”

 

Molly's eyes widened. “Oh, if you like! And if you don't want to watch the rest of the programme.”

 

“Hmm, not sure that I fully appreciate it. It seems a bit wacky, a little like your Harry Potter fanfiction.”

 

Molly lightly slapped his arm. “Shh! And it's to practise my writing skills. You cannot tell anyone!”

 

“Only if you promise to add me in it,” Sherlock smirked. “And I desire a kiss, of course.”

 

Molly complied.

 

* * *

 

**Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Brother by MollzCatz**

 

“Loki, you don't have to do this!” Harry yelled, ducking behind a suit of armour as the giant snake lunged at him once more. “We could work together! Destroy Voldemort together!”

 

“I don't care about Voldemort!” Loki screamed back, tears running down his face. “And I never wanted the Elder Wand! I only wanted to be your equal, to be acknowledged as Lily's firstborn son!”

 

“What?” Harry gasped. It couldn't be true, it just couldn't. “No, you're Loki Snapeson.”

 

“And Lily's son.”

 

“NOOOOO!” Harry bellowed. “YOU BLOODY LYING GIT!”

 

He tried to jump out, to tear Loki to pieces, but found that there were strong arms holding him back.

 

“Don't do it, Harry!” shouted Sherlock Sharpeye, a third year Ravenclaw who had over heard the commotion. “He's telling the truth. I deduced the truth by his shoes.”

 

“Help me take him down!”

 

“I can't. I've just found out that my girlfriend is secretly the princess of wearwolves and I don't know if I can handle it. See you, mate.”

 

And with that Sherlock left Harry all alone to face the giant snake and his secret half-brother.

 

* * *

 

 

_AN: Merry Christmas, everyone! Hoping you're all able to treat yourselves a bit._

_LOL, please, don't take Molly's fanfiction seriously. It is a joke._

 

“Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign. Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel.” – Isaiah 7:14

 


	17. The Spa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki and Sigyn get their weekend away

 

AN: Have you ever written anything that was so angsty and emotional that you were a little embarrassed by it, but you had spent so long writing that you didn't want to delete it? Well, this is that kind of chapter. Feel free to skip, feel free to go, “Blargh, this is awful!”

* * *

 

**The Spa**

 

“Oh, Loki, look – a fireplace! Just like home, only much nicer!”

 

“Yes, it's -”

 

“And look at all these driftwood sculptures. They're beautiful and they feel so smooth! I can rub my face against them.”

 

“Yes, they're -”

 

“Ah! Look!”

 

Loki winced, but watched as Sigyn took a running jump into one of the canvas pods hanging from the ceiling.

 

“There are pillows inside here! It's like being inside a womb.”

 

With a yawn, Loki kicked off his boots and laid back on the bed, quietly allowing Sigyn to run around like a five year old at Christmas, exploring every feature, every cupboard and drawer, and every nook and cranny, everything somehow eliciting exclamations of awe and wonder, no matter how mundane. It was always the same; take Sigyn into a new environment and would it drive her temporarily hyper.

 

He looked up when he heard the sound of something landing against the glass door. Sigyn had pressed her face and hands up against the pane.

 

“I can see the outdoor pool! It's all so natural, made of rocks and reeds – and, oh, I can see the sea!”

 

Loki laced his hands under his head. “We can see the sea from our bedroom back home,” he reminded her.

 

“Not like this, though. This is beautiful.”

 

She ran back across the room and leapt straight onto Loki, wrapping her arms around him. He gently ran his fingers up and down her smooth, dark skin. Since they were on Midgard she would be staying in her human form – mostly. It was a well known fact that shape shifters had the most exciting sex lives, with endless new possibilities to try out.

 

“We have to work out our timetable,” she told him. “There's so much I want to try and we're only here for two days.”

 

“What do you fancy? Apart from me, of course.”

 

“There's a class for couples on how to give each other massages.”

 

“Lovely. What else?”

 

“Actual real massages from trained therapists. No offence to either of us, but no matter how we try we're not going to be as good as the professionals.”

 

“True. What else?”

 

“Mineral mud baths.”

 

Loki chuckled. “Sounds horrible, but I'll be happy to join you.”

 

“And I would like to take a walk through their winter garden. And I want to make use of the outdoor pool.”

 

“Glad you've got everything worked out, Captain.”

 

“Sorry, am I being too controlling again?”

 

“Not at all. I'm happy if you're happy.”

 

She traced a small circle on chest.

 

“On that note....I want you at least twice tonight. Firstly, in this bed. Secondly, in that canvas pod. Sit up.”

 

He quickly did as he was told.

 

Sigyn pulled his shirt down on over his shoulder and leaned in to plant a kiss in the hollow where his shoulder joined his neck, using her teeth just enough to make it more pleasurable for him without being painful. As she moved her mouth away, she blew gently onto the wet spot, further exciting the vagus nerve. And him. She repeated this pattern all the way up his neck.

 

Oo

 

There was an alarming number of pregnant women staying in the spa. It seemed to Loki and Sigyn that everywhere they went they were met by a bulging belly, swollen breasts, and glowing faces. One smiling father-to-be asked if they were also expecting and at the spa to take advantage of the “Babymoon” offers. Sigyn burst into tears and Loki was furious.

 

They hastily retreated to their room before anything more could be said or done.

 

“I could have killed him!” Loki snarled, wiping his wet eyes with the back of hand.

 

Sigyn sat behind him on the bed. She had her arms around him and was gently rocking him.

 

“Shhh,” she told him, kissing his head. “He didn't mean to upset us.”

 

“What an insensitive thing to ask! Anyone can see that you're not pregnant!”

 

“Shhh, I know, I know.”

 

“He made you cry! How dare he!”

 

“Shhh, shhh. I'm angry as well. And that's okay, we're allowed to be angry.” She rubbed his cheek with her thumb. “But it was just one man making one small, thoughtless comment. That's all. It's over now. Let's move on and enjoy the rest of our free weekend, even if we just stay in here.”

 

Loki sniffed loudly, brushing away the last of his tears.

 

“Why are you always the strong one?” he asked, thickly.

 

She buried her face into his shoulder. “I'm not strong. I have you. And it's only because of you that I've been able to keep going. We support one another. Always. Now and forever.”

 

Loki turned to face her. “I love you so much, Sigyn.”

 

“I love you two, Loki.”

 

They embraced tightly, feeling each others hearts beating against their chests.

 

ooo

 

The next morning the hotel manager herself came to their room to deliver an enormous bouquet of flowers on behalf of the happy couple who had upset them so much. It also came with a brief but earnest note apologising for their blunder, ending with well-wishes for their future.

 

The manager asked for no details but tactfully offered them a discounted weekend for later in the year, at a time when the Babymoon offers were not on.

 

 

Oooo

 

The day after that they arrived back at their castle, with Sherlock and Molly waiting for the on the doorstep. Sigyn bounded up to them to hug them tight, almost winding them.

 

“Thank you so much!” she cried.

 

Sherlock just about managed to escape her grip.

 

“You had a good time, then?” he asked.

 

“Yes and no,” she admitted. “But more importantly the Fates reminded us that even when things look bleak there are kind strangers out there.” She squeezed them again. “And we have very kind friends. So, how did you two get on looking after everything? I hope the reindeer didn't you give too much trouble.”

 

Molly glanced at Sherlock. Sherlock glanced at Molly.

 

“Well...”

 

* * *

 

AN: Thanks for reading! Next chapter will about Sherlock and Molly trying to take of the castle and the reindeer.

Also, I decided an age ago that Sigyn is the dominate one in the bedroom....and she's a biter. In my other fic I briefly and vaguely covered their wedding night. One of them said “Ow!”, but I didn't reveal who. I will now tell you that it was Loki; he was not expecting Sigyn to go for his neck. Thankfully, she's learnt to restrain herself a bit, but for the first few months of their marriage Loki had love bites. Now you know.

 


	18. Meh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meh

 

**The Castle, Alfheim**

 

Molly gave three short blasts on the whistle. Some, but not all, of the reindeer heeded the call and came trotting towards her or swooped down from the sky; others were more stubborn or just confused that it was not their masters blowing the whistle. These reindeer continued to trot this way and that across the snowy sky. One landed on the sloped roof of the castle, knocking a couple of tiles off.

 

Molly tried again. Bad idea. This time the reindeer who were on the ground took off, scattering in all directions. The reindeer who had been flying dipped a little lower in the air, but then changed their minds and went even higher. The reindeer on the roof looked as though it was regretting its decision.

 

“Oh, come back!” Molly yelled. “Back! I'm supposed to feed you!”

 

They did not listen.

 

“I'm going inside now to fetch Sherlock,” Molly called.

 

 

Ooo

 

Sherlock was busy at the stove, slowly stirring a foul-smelling concoction of magical herbs and spices in a saucepan.

 

“Sherlock, I need – what is that smell?!”

 

“Medicine,” he replied, dourly.

 

“For who?”

 

“Albert. Supposedly this stuff will help restore his magic. But, then again, who am I to question it even though I still don't understand how magic works? Anyway, are they all fed?”

 

“Uh, not yet...”

 

“As long as we don't let Albert out of the shed.” Sherlock chuckled. “Sigyn was telling me that he's a menace for trying to fly, even though he can't manage any great distance.”

 

Molly laughed nervously. Suddenly she had worked out the identity of the reindeer on the roof.

 

“You carry on with that,” she told him. “And I'll – I'll be back in a mo.”

 

She dashed back out to the paddock and craned her neck to look up at the sloped roof. Albert was still there, looking rather sorry for himself.

 

“Albert! Al-berrttt,” Molly called in a sing-song voice, hoping that it sounded enticing and encouraging. “Come on down, come on. Come to Molly.”

 

Albert just stared dumbly at her.

 

Molly plunged a hand into her pocket. “I have treats for you. Lots of yummy treats...well, I can't find any right now, but I'll buy some for you.”

 

Albert did not move.

 

“Oh, come on, Albert! You can do it! Just one little hop and you'll be fine. You've got enough magic in you to make it. Please, please try!”

 

“Molly, what's going on?” Sherlock came and stood by her side, medicine bottle ready in hand. He looked to the roof. “That's -”

 

“Yes,” Molly interrupted, tiredly.

 

“And he's -”

 

“Stuck on the roof, I know.”

 

“This is marvellous,” said Sherlock. “We've only been here a few hours and already we've managed to get the only reindeer of the herd who can't fly far stuck on their roof. Why did you let him out of the shed?”

 

“Because you didn't tell me not to!”

 

“He was in a little shed all on his own! I think it's obvious that -”

 

“You didn't tell me! I wasn't around when Sigyn told you about him!”

 

“Still, though -”

 

“No, not still though! I'm not like you, Sherlock! I don't think using the science of deduction all the time. Sometimes you'll need to actually tell me things instead of assuming that I'll work it out on my own.”

 

“You right, Molly, from now on I'll assume nothing about your ability to work out the obvious.”

 

Molly glared at him. “Alright, genius. Reindeer. Roof. Go.”

 

And she stormed off as fast as she could trudge through the ankle deep snow. Which actually wasn't all that fast and killed the effect, but her body language screamed volumes.

 

As is always the way with arguments it was only now that it was over that Sherlock realised that his words and his annoyance had been deeply hurtful. However, he still thought himself in the right and it didn't occur to him to apologise.

 

“Could you at least take Dik the Dik-Dik for a walk?” he called after her.

 

 

ooo

 

Sherlock had tried everything.

 

He had looked directly at Albert as he had blown the whistle. He had called him by name. He had shouted Albert's name. He had tried to get the other reindeer to fly close and thus encourage him, but that plan quickly proved to be a humongous fail. He had left a pile of sweetened mushrooms, apples, carrots, and leafy plants at the foot of the castle, but all that happened was that all the other reindeer landed beside him and gobbled it all up before he could push them away.

 

Daylight did not last long in the north of Alfheim and with darkness quickly creeping up on them Sherlock found a wooden ladder stored in one of the greenhouses and propped it up against the kitchen wall. He shouted for Molly to come out and hold it for him.

 

“What are you going to do? Carry him down in a fireman's lift?”

 

She was still feeling angry and hurt and so was inclined to speak icily to him.

 

“I don't know, Molly,” Sherlock retorted, frustrated. “I'm going to fix the mess you've caused, that's what.”

 

Molly's eyes flashed. “Speaking of messes, do you know what I've just spent the last hour doing?”

 

“Reading a book?”

 

“No, scrubbing the stove and the tiles and the floor. You'd left the stove on! And with the saucepan on top. It bubbled over and – ugh! Disgusting. And the saucepan's ruined.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Oh is right.”

 

Sherlock shook his head. “Look, it's getting dark fast. We'll talk about this after we manage to get Albert down.”

 

He went to step on the first rung, but Molly pulled on the back of his coat.

 

“Don't do it. It's icy and wet up there. Look at how many tiles Albert has knocked off already, and he has four legs and is used to standing on rooftops! If he can't do it then neither can you.”

 

“Well in that case I won't step off the ladder, I'll just climb to the top. Okay? Here we go.”

 

Sherlock placed one foot onto the first rung and the whole thing fell apart. Completely. The two poles fell in opposite directions and every single rung dropped out one by one.

 

“Sherlock,” Molly whispered.

 

“Yes?”

 

“I don't think the ladder's safe.”

 

“How about this? We make bear noises to spook the rest of the herd. And then Albert, driven by his natural instincts will fly away with them.”

 

“If they fly away we may not be able to get them back.”

 

“Okay, so we'll dress you up as an attractive female reindeer -”

 

“Actually, Albert is female.”

 

“What?”

 

“It's true! Male reindeer lose their antlers in winter. Females don't. The sleigh has always been pulled by females and it will always be so.”

 

“Then why is he – she – called -”

 

“I don't know. And at this point I don't really care.”

 

“I never knew that. I really need to rethink my personal biases.”

 

This fascinating discussion was interrupted by a large gust of wind which blew Albert off the roof. She landed antlers first in the snow, but was absolutely fine.

 

“I feel like we were worrying over nothing,” said Molly.

 

“Hmm.”

 

_AN: Could you tell I got really bored with this chapter?_

 


	19. Loki

 

 

 

“What's on your mind, Loki?”

 

No reply.

 

He was slumped sidewards in the chair with his long legs dangling over the arm. He was normally so neatly dressed, but today his clothes had an odd look about them. Not dirty, Ella observed, but darker than usual, even the white shirt. Everything looked crumpled and fatigued as though none of it could be bothered to stay on his body. His tie was loose and his shoes and socks had given up a long time ago, slipping off his feet almost as soon as he had wandered in.

 

Ella was an experienced counsellor and was more than used to witnessing unusual behaviours, so she wasn't fazed by the bare feet, even if she kept staring at the dark green nail polish as it flashed in the light. However, she was put off by him munching absently on a Crunchie bar.

 

She lent forward, hoping to engage his attention.

 

“How about you finish that Crunchie quickly so that we can started? You know we don't eat during our sessions. It's too much of a distraction.”

 

He silently fished a Dairy Milk out of his pocket and threw it onto her lap. She silently placed it on the small table next to the water jug.

 

“I can see that you're not interested in talking to me today. Why is that?”

 

No reply. Just a quiet crackling, munching noise and the whiff of honey.

 

Ella took a quick glance at her notes.

 

“Last session you said that you would be spending the weekend at a spa. Did you go? How was it?”

 

“I'm bored.”

 

It wasn't in answer to her question, but it was revealing enough and providing an opening into conversation. Ella seized upon it.

 

“What of?”

 

“Everything,” he replied, darkly. He sat up straight. “I don't know why we're here. I don't know why we do this once a week, every week, but it's so tedious.”

 

“Therapy is always hard work, Loki, and, yes, they can feel tedious at times. Do you feel that these sessions are not helping any more? That we've been stuck on the same issues for too long?”

 

“Just tell me the answers.”

 

Ellie pressed her lips together. “You're here so that together we can help you manage your Trickster nature, as well as your grief over your son. This you already know. The rest I can't answer for you. Why do you think that you feel bored of everything?”

 

“I stole those chocolate bars.”

 

Ella, the master of maintaining a poker face, refused to allow her disappointment to show. She understood the game he was playing, he was looking for an emotional reaction. That was understandable if he was as bored as he claimed to be. The thrill of getting into arguments could be addictive for clients like Loki, a way to burst out of the mundane fog that shrouded them. Understandable, but not healthy.

 

“Oh, dear,” she said, blandly. “Why did you do you that?”

 

Her aim was to be supportive and interested without feeding his need for drama.

 

A heavy look of irritation moved across his face. He picked at the skin on the palm on his hand.

 

“I'm so fed up of it all,” he said, quietly. “Of all the rules I have to follow in order to be considered a good person. Being polite and kind and wearing shoes. I don't actually need to wear shoes! I'm sick of authority. I hate seeing children being forced to go to school. And I'm sick of giving so much to the universe and getting nothing back in return.” He paused to drag a hand over his face. “I'm being of chaos. I can't squeeze myself into such an ordered world....just can't do it any more...”

 

He stood up abruptly, throwing his suit jacket to the floor.

 

Ella stood up as well. “Loki, I'd rather you waited here for Sigyn to come and collect you. Let me call her and she can come and get you early. Even if we don't continue with the session I can't let you leave. It's part of my duty of care to make sure that you -”

 

“Shhh!” Loki hushed, pressing a finger to her lips. “I've had my fill of therapy. I'm done. Here have a Mars bar for your trouble. I would make sure that you are paid properly but I can't be bothered with anything like money or fairness any longer. You will just have to settle for me telling you to get stuffed and if we ever meet again it will be a billion years too soon.”

 

oo0

 

It was proving to be an odd sort of day for jolly old London. For one thing all of the tea had gone bad; not terrible, just slightly odd tasting, enough to annoy people. No one could lay their hands on a descent cuppa for neither love nor money and the people were growing quickly irritable. For another the tube trains were refusing to allow anyone to embark or disembark, instead spending their time rushing up and down the tracks while singing “Don't Stop Me Now”. Realistically this was a bigger problem than the tea, but was no less irritating.

 

Specific individuals were also targeted. Sherlock was most annoyed to find that his sock index had been tampered with. Molly was highly embarrassed when a long line of women in labour were for some reason sent to the morgue to give birth instead of the delivery suit, and just when she was about to begin an autopsy on a particularly gruesome corpse.

 

They both soon deduced who the culprit was when breaking news announced that all of the waxworks in Madam Tussades had mysteriously transformed to take on the appearance of the same male with long dark hair and winning smile.

 

They called Sigyn.

 

Then they demanded that Sigyn come and take her silly husband home.

 

She complied as far as going to 221B and listening to their complaints for the second time, Sherlock's in person and Molly over the phone for she was still at work and about to deliver her fourth baby.

 

“I'm a pathologist!” Molly growled, over the sound of newborns crying. “Remember your breathing – I work with the newly dead, not the newly living – no, pant! Pant! No, I don't know what's going on. The dead never moan this much. What do you have to say about this, Sigyn?”

 

Sigyn had a quick think, took a look around the flat.

 

“I like your wallpaper,” she said.

 

“What are you going to do about Loki?” Sherlock asked.

 

“Oh, nothing,” Sigyn replied, lightly. “Let him get it all out of his system. He'll stop when he grows tired.”

 

“Even after what he's done to Big Ben?”

 

Sherlock threw open the window so that Sigyn could hear. Instead of ringing in every quarter hour, half hour, and hour with its usual deep, solemn, and dignified iconic chimes, there was Loki's singsong voice booming across the city, “Bong, bong, bong...b-bong, b-bong”, continuously, without pause. Yes, it was just as annoying as you are no doubt picturing.

 

Sigyn shrugged. “He's a Trickster and a god of Mischief. It's his role to bring chaos into the world. It's his instinct to cause trouble when a realm becomes too orderly, too peaceful. Thor creates storms. Loki creates mischief. It's just what the Aesir do.”

 

“And I'm a detective. Arguably it's my job to make sense of the things ordinary people can't possibly understand, to bring order back into balance with chaos.”

 

At times like this Sigyn decided that she should be allowed to indulge in the habit her husband so vehemently disapproved of. She took a cigarette from her pocket, lit it, slumped back on the sofa and began to smoke it with all the style and class of an impoverished artist.

 

Sherlock stared at her. There was something inherently wrong about seeing Captain Christmas smoking. And he was trying to pack in the habit himself.

 

“Must you?” he asked.

 

“What? What's she doing?” Molly's voice demanded over the sound of crying. “Shut up!”

 

“Sorry,” Sigyn said, taking another drag. “Only do it when I'm really stressed. One last puff and out it goes, promise.”

 

She kept to her word, snubbing out the cigarette on a plate in a manner which Molly would have disapproved of, but in which Sherlock didn't care. He always felt a kind of comradeship with a fellow smoker who was under duress to quit by their partner.

 

Sigyn sniffed the ends of her dark hair (while in human form her blue hair turned black). “He doesn't like the smell,” she explained. “He gripes endlessly when he thinks he can smell it on his clothes.”

 

“I don't suppose that cancer is a concern for your kind?”

 

“Not at all! Which makes it all the more frustrating! I'm thinking of going back to my pipe just to annoy him.” She tossed her braids back over her shoulder and narrowed her dark eyes at him. “Now then, young man, am I to take it from your little speech just now that you think you might just be the one to stop Loki?”

 

Sherlock had the good grace to look slightly sheepish. “Well, maybe it's the just the reality we exist in. A reality where science and magic are compatible, where myths are rooted in fact and not in imagination, and where gods and mortals live side by side. If Loki is trapped by his Trickster persona then maybe he needs a – needs a -”

 

“Hero?” Sigyn filled in, smiling. “Oh, Sherlock, of course I think you brave and strong -”

 

“Oh, please!” Molly griped.

 

“But it's not your job to keep Loki from going too far. That's Thor's role. It will always be Thor and Loki. Two brothers continually fighting, reconciling, and then fighting again. Try to be Thor and you'll be squashed.” She gave Sherlock a quick hug before turning her attention to the TV. “Besides this is just playful stuff, nothing in comparison to how bad he could be....to how bad the prophesies say he could be...Oh, dear!”

 

Sherlock nodded towards the TV. “That might require supervision.”

 

ooo

 

Loki felt rather disappointed when he realised that his boredom and restlessness were increasing rather than abating. However, if he kept escalating things then maybe even Thor would show up. Maybe he would even be dragged back to Asgard to have a little chat with Odin. Any kind of attention was better than no attention at all. Any kind of excitement, even the dangerous kind, was better than the periods of numbness he felt from time to time.

 

He sat with the cold wind pushing and pulling against him and desperately trying to claw his mobile out of his hand. He was thinking about calling Sigyn, but couldn't quite decide about what to say. What could he say? He could hear Ella's voice encouraging him to reflect on his feelings.

 

 _Label them_ , she said.

 

So he tried texting it all out to see what would happen:

 

[Please come find me. Stay away. I'm angry. I'm happy. I'm going to explode with emotion. Don't stop me, I've having too much fun. Make me stop, I can't stop. I want to go home. Let's go dancing. I want to make love to you. I love you. I hate you. No, I really love you. I stole some chocolate bars but I'm not sorry. I am a little bit sorry but they were so tasty! If you don't come now I'm going to steal a penguin from the zoo. Not really. I miss you. I hate Asgard and I hate Midgard. I hate the mortals and I despise Odin. Help! No, don't help, I'm doing fine. Do you want a penguin?????]

 

It was such a stupid, contradictory mess that he deleted it and instead took a selfie with the stolen penguin, the one he had “adopted” on a whim, but hadn't the courage to actually admit he had stolen in the text.

 

Poor thing was not at all happy about sitting on top of London Eye. He flapped and squawked and waddled about until Loki placed in one of his bottomless pockets. He would return Percy when he had chance.

 

Another gust of wind blew and would have snatched Percy away had Loki not held onto him. The same could not be said of the priceless Ming vases and other museum pieces Loki had lined up neatly in a circle around himself. There was something satisfying about watching them being smashed or sent tumbling into the Thames.

 

ooo

Lestrade was having a long day. A long and strange day, full of unexplainable events. Like all the police cars being replaced with toy ones. Or the Prime Minister ending up with a permanent clown face. And all the tea tasted odd!

 

But now this. A man sitting on the roof of a pod while it was at its very peak and holding what looked like a penguin under his arm.

 

“Sir, please sit still!” he shouted through a megaphone. “Help is coming!”

 

It wasn't coming. All of the rescue helicopters had been reported to be out of action. But help would come once they had a formulated a viable rescue plan.

 

A breeze blew sending a blue patterned vases hurtling through and shattering into a thousand pieces on the ground.

 

A man in a suit grabbed Lestrade's arm tightly.

 

“Oh, that was one of our Ming vases, stolen this afternoon! Do tell him to be careful! They're invaluable!”

 

ooo

 

Loki had cheered up considerably when he saw the crowds gathering in front of the cordon. This was the kind of chaos he enjoyed. It was fun listening to rumble of panic and the forced calmness of the Inspector.

 

But there was another noise too, coming from far away. The sound of air rushing over something with the slight crackle of flame.

 

Percy flapped his wings and squawked.

 

“Yes, I hear it too. What is _that_?”

 

Loki stood up, squinting his eyes at the horizon.

 

“Don't stand up!” Lestrade yelled through his loudspeaker.

 

There was a black dot over the buildings and growing bigger with each passing second. Loki summoned his green flames into his hands, ready to fight whatever it was. He kept Percy pinned safely under his arm.

 

A few more seconds and Loki could see the advancing object clearly and identify it for what it was. Or rather who it was.

 

By now the people on the ground had also noticed the “who” and were cheering and taking pictures. The flames in Loki's hands grew larger. The Iron Man was stealing his moment.

 

Iron Man looped around the Eye before coming to hover in Loki's eyeline.

 

“Why is it that looking at you is making me crave After Eight mints*?” the suit of armour asked in a metallic voice.

 

“You're the Iron Dude. Tony Stark.”

 

“Iron Man.”

 

“Iron Dude sounds more American. I like to translate.”

 

He didn't need to see Stark's face to know that he was annoyed.

 

“Let's go After Eight. People want to ride their magic Ferris wheel.”

 

Loki smirked. What had he to fear from a mortal in a metal suit? “You clearly don't know who I am. I am -”

 

The Iron Man shot forward, tackling Loki around the waist and knocking him clear off the pod. He tumbled through the air until Iron Man caught him by the wrist and deposited him safely on the ground in front of Lestrade.

 

The same could not be said of the priceless pieces of artwork and pottery. They were also knocked off the pod, but not even Iron Man could catch them in time (not that he felt inclined to even try) so all were smashed into thousands of tiny expensive pieces. The man from the museum almost suffered a heart attack.

 

As for Percy, he would have suffered a similar fate had Loki not enchanted him with the gift of flight. Falling from such a height gave him the push his instincts needed to start flapping his wings as though he were under water. He circled gracefully over the heads of the crowd, before pointing his beak towards the sun and went off in search for a better life for himself.

 

Iron Man landed besides Loki and a shocked Lestrade.

 

“Alright, After Eight, SHIELD would like a word with you. Inspector, I'll take it from here – HEY, WAIT!”

 

It's not possible to hold a Trickster captive for very long. As soon as Iron Man's attention had been ever so slightly diverted Loki had turned himself into fire, streaking across the ground until he had reached the Thames and diving in, huge causing clouds of steam rise up.

 

“Shouldn't you go after him?” Lestrade asked in a very quiet voice.

 

Iron Man thought about it for a moment. “I'm not getting paid for this. If SHIELD really wants him they'll have get him themselves. Laters.”

 

ooo

 

Two hours later Loki slowly trudged into 221B, looking windswept and tired. He looked around at the people within the cosy rooms – Sherlock at his microscope and at Molly and Sigyn browsing through Bridal magazines – all ignored him.

 

“I'm back,” he announced, softly.

 

Silence.

 

“I said hello,” he said, slighter louder.

 

“Oh, hello, dear,” said Sigyn, casually, tossing the magazine aside. “Did you have a good day?”

 

“Yes and no,” Loki admitted. “I feel better than did....but I drank a lot of Thames water by accident -”

 

Molly chuckled from behind her magazine.

 

“ -and we both know what kind of things have been dumped into the river over the years.”

 

“Aw. Well, don't mind me if I don't kiss you. Have you put everything right?”

 

“Yes,” Loki said, tightly.

 

“Even Madam Taussades?”

 

“Yes,” he said after a moments hesitation.

 

“Good. Then we go home. Come on.”

 

“Goodnight, Sherlock, Molly,” said Loki.

 

“Loki.”

 

“Oh, and by the way, I found a flying penguin, Loke. Can we keep him?”

 

* * *

 

*After Eight mints – google them if you want to know what they are.

 

Thanks for reading! Sorry not much of S and M, I'm still trying to make them interesting.

 


	20. Wedding Dress

 

**Wedding Dress**

 

 

“Ow!”

 

“Molly, if you don't stop fidgeting then I'll stick you with another pin!”

 

Molly did her very best, but she had been standing on the stool for almost half an hour, swamped in the white silky material, as Sigyn worked: measuring, pinning, chalking, and making sketches on her drawing pad.

 

“Sorry, it's just that I'm not used to wearing so much. I'm hot.”

 

She tried to fan herself, but even that was enough to irritate Sigyn.

 

“Stand still!”

 

“Sorr – ow!”

 

“I warned you. You're worse than Loki for fidgeting. Anyway, I'm done for now.”

 

Molly waited as patiently as possible as Sigyn had to help lift the white material over head.

 

“Are you sure that this is what you want?”

 

“Absolutely! I love Sherlock!”

 

Sigyn raised an eyebrow.

 

“I meant the dress. I can make it however you want. Any colour, any style.”

 

“Thank you, but this is my only chance to look like a princess. I know that sounds silly.”

 

Sigyn glanced down her own worn clothes and raised an eyebrow. “Oh, and what do princesses look like?”

 

Molly giggled. “I forget that you're a princess.”

 

“Only because of my marriage to Loki. Otherwise I'm just a commoner. Like you.”

 

“And we'll both be married to posh boys.”

 

“Loki's posher. I'm not boasting. It terrifys me to know that he's first in line to the throne of Jotuheim and second to Asgard. It will never actually happen, but there is the very slim possibility that one day he could be King Loki the First and Third. Or King Loki the Third and First, depending on which throne he inherits first.”

 

Molly winced at the very thought. She could only picture Loki as being a very useless ruler.

 

“Any tips for being married to a posh boy?” she asked, hoping to lighten the mood.

 

“Be prepared for his family looking down their noses at you. Loki's parents? Snobs. I suppose they are the rulers of the Nine Realms, but they act like I don't know how to use and a knife and fork. Oh, and hire a maid. If Sherlock is like Loki he will have never cleaned for himself. Hire a maid or be prepared to teach him to do his fair share. Good luck with that. Oh, and I could write an essay on all the formal occasions you'll have to endure.”

 

“Oh,” Molly said, sadly.

 

“What?”

 

“I wasn't expecting there to be actual tips. I thought maybe you'd just laugh and tell me there's nothing to worry about.”

 

Sigyn laughed and gave Molly a quick hug. “You'll be fine. Now, away with you! I'll email the finished design to you and you can give me the ay or nay. I'll get Loki to take you home.”

 

Loki? Molly's heart sank a little. She didn't like the thought of being stuck in the sleigh with Loki, who had been so moody lately.

 

She slung her bag onto her shoulder. “I still want to pay you,” she said, cautiously. “I mean, I have a budget to stick to, but we should discuss it.”

 

Sigyn waved her hand dismissively. “Human money is no good to us. Don't worry about it. All art is a gift. As soon as you put a price tag on it, it loses something.”

 

“Then I'll owe you a massive favour. Or lots of small ones.”

 

Sigyn chuckled. “I might hold you to that. I'll tell you what, for starters you could try to persaude my dear husband that he needs to take better care of himself, for his sake as well as my own.”

 

“Is he not okay?”

 

“He's fallen back into the old habit of doing nothing all day and night. He needs a good verbal shove from a doctor to push him out of his inertia.”

 

“I'm not sure I'll be able to help. I'm not that kind of doctor. He should go back to therapy if he needs help.”

 

“Should, but won't. It's funny, isn't it, but Asgardians are supposed to mature at the same rate as mortals, but Loki seems to support the opposing theory that it's all proportional. In mortal years he's barely 19, which would explain the tantrums and the stubbornness.”

 

“19?” Molly gasped. “Wow.”

 

“Good luck. I'll fetch Loki.”

 


End file.
